Part 9 (1/2)
Pious e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n--thanks to all the saints he could think of--horror that the son of an Eminence should be thus abused--prophecies of the wrath to come when the d.u.c.h.ess, his mother--At this Don Ruy groped for a sword, and found a boot, and flung it, with an unsanctified word or two, in the direction of the lamentation.
”You wail worse than a dog of a Lutheran under the yoke,” he said in as good a voice as he could muster with a cut in his lip. ”What matter how much Eminence it took to make a father for me--or how many d.u.c.h.esses to make a mother? I am labelled as plain Ruy Sandoval and s.h.i.+pped till called for. If you are to instruct my youth in the path it should tread--why not start in with a lesson on discretion?”
At this hopeful sign of life from the bundle of bandages on the monk's bed, Maestro Diego approached and looked over his ill.u.s.trious charge with a careful eye.
”Discretion has limped far behind--enterprise, else your highness would cut a different figure by now--and--”
[Ill.u.s.tration: TO DON RUY, A MESSAGE IN THE MOONLIGHT _Page 63_]
”Choke back your infernal highnesses!” growled the younger man. ”I know well what your task is to be here in this new land:--it is to send back reports of duty each time I break a rule or get a broken head. Now by the Blood, and the Cross, if you smother not your t.i.tles, and let me range free, I tell you the thing I will do:--I will send back a complaint against you to Seville--and to make sure that it goes, no hand shall carry it but your own. Ere they can find another nurse maid for my morals, I'll build me a s.h.i.+p and go sailing the South seas for adventure--and your court tricksters will have a weary time in the chase! I like you better than many another G.o.dly spy who might have been sent, and I promise myself much joy in the journal of strange travels it is in your mind to write. But once for all, remember, we never were born into the world until a week ago!”
”But your Excellency--
”By the Great Duke of h.e.l.l! Will you not bridle your tongue when the d.a.m.ned monks are three deep at the key hole?”
By which it will be seen that the travels of the pious Don Diego were not all on paths of roses.
A little later the still faced priest of the stealthy glances came in, and Don Ruy sat on the side of the bed, and looked him over.
”You are the one who picked me up--eh? And the gentlemen of the streets had tossed me into a corner after discreetly starting my soul on its travels! Warm trysts your dames give to a stranger in this land--when you next confess the darlings, whisper their ears to be less bloodthirsty towards youth innocence!”
The man in the robe smiled.
”That unwise maid will make no more trysts,” he said quietly,--”not if she be one important enough to cause an a.s.sault on your Highness.”
”Did they--?”
”No--no--harm would not be done to her, but her destiny is without doubt a convent. The men who spoiled your tryst earn no purses as guard for girls of the street,--sacred walls will save them that trouble for a time--whether maid or wife I dare promise you that! It is as well you know. Time is wasted seeking adventure placed beyond mortal reach.”
”Convent--eh? Do your holy retreats teach the little tricks the lady knew? And do they furnish their vestals with poems of romance and silks and spices of Kathay?”
He drew from an inner pocket a little scarf of apple green with knotted fringes, and b.u.t.terflies, various colored in dainty broidery.
As the folds fell apart an odor of sweetness stole into the shadowy room of the monastery, and the priest was surprised into an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n at sight of such costly evidence, but he smothered it hastily in a muttered prayer.
After that he listened to few of the stranger's gibes and quips, but with a book of prayers on his knee he looked the youth over carefully, recalled the outburst of Don Diego as to origin, and the adventurer's own threat to build a s.h.i.+p and sail where chance pointed. Plainly, this seeker of trysts, or any other thing promising adventure, had more of resource than one might expect from a battered stranger lifted out of the gutter for the last rites.
The priest--who looked a good soldier and who was called Padre Vicente ”de los Chichimecos” (of the wild tribes) read further in his book of hours, and then spoke the thing in his mind.
”For a matter of many years in this land of the Indies I have waited for a man of discreet determination for a certain work. The virgin herself led me to the gutter where you groaned in the dark, and I here vow to build her a chapel if this thought of mine bears fruit.”
”Hump! My thanks to our Lady,--and I myself will see to the building of the chapel. But tell me of the tree you would plant, and we'll then have a guess at the fruit. It may prove sour to the taste! Monkly messes appealed to me little on the other side of the seas. I've yet to test their flavor on this sh.o.r.e of adventure.”
Padre Vicente ignored the none too respectful comment--and took from his pocket a bit of virgin gold strung on a thread of deer sinew.
”Your name is Don Ruy Sandoval,” he said. ”You are in this land for adventure. You content yourself with the latticed window and the strife of the streets--why not look for the greater things? You have wealth and power at your call--why not search for an empire of--this?”
Then he showed the virgin gold worn smooth by much wearing.
Don Ruy blinked under the bandage and swore by Bradamante of the adventure that he would search for it gladly if but the way was shown.
”Where do we find this golden mistress of yours?” he demanded, ”and why have you waited long for a comrade?”