A Set of Rogues

by Frank Barrett

  CHAPTER VIII.

  _How we were entertained in the mountains, and stand in a fair way tohave our throats cut._

  "We will go on when you are ready," says Don Sanchez, turning to us.

  "Aye," growled Jack in my ear, "with all my heart. For if these friendsbe of the same kidney as Don Lopez, we may be persuaded to take a betterroad, which God forbid if this be a sample of their preference."

  So being in our saddles forth we set once more and on a path no easierthan before, but worse--like a very housetop for steepness, without atinge of any living thing for succour if one fell, but only sharp,jagged rocks, and that which now added to our peril was here and there apatch of snow, so that the mules must cock their ears and feel their waybefore advancing a step, now halting for dread, and now scuttling onwith their tails betwixt their legs as the stones rolled under them.

  But the longest road hath an end, and so at length reaching that gap wehad seen from below, to our great content we beheld through an angle inthe mountain a tract of open country below, looking mighty green andsweet in the distance. And at the sight of this, Moll clapt her handsand cried out with joy; indeed, we were all as mad as children with thethought that our task was half done. Only the Don kept his gravity. Butturning to Moll, he stretches out his hand towards the plain and sayswith prodigious pride, "My country!"

  And now we began the descent, which was actually more perilous than theascent, but we made light of it, being very much enlivened by the highmountain air and the relief from dread uncertainty, shouting out ourreflections one to another as we jolted down the rugged path.

  "After all, Jack," says I to him at the top of my voice, being inadvance and next to Don Sanchez; "after all, Don Lopez was not such abad friend to us."

  Upon which, the Don, stopping his mule at the risk of being cast downthe abyss, turns in his saddle, and says:

  "Fellow, Don Lopez is a Spaniard. A Castilian of noble birth--" but herehis mule deciding that this was no fit place for halting, bundled onwardat a trot to overtake the guides, and obliged his rider to turn hisattention to other matters.

  By the look of the sun it must have been about two in the afternoonwhen, rounding a great bluff of rock, we came upon a kind of tablelandwhich commanded a wide view of the plain below, most dazzling to oureyes after the gloomy recesses of the pass; and here we found treesgrowing and some rude attempt at cultivation, but all very poor andstunted, being still very high and exposed to the bleak winds issuingfrom the gorges.

  Our guides, throwing themselves on the ground, repaired once more totheir store of onions, and we, nothing loath to follow their examples,opened our saddle bags, and with our cold meat and the hogskin of winemade another good repast and very merry. And the Don, falling intodiscourse with the guides, pointed out to us a little white patch on theplain below, and told us that was Ravellos, where we should find one ofthe best posadas in the world, which added to our satisfaction. "But"says he, "'tis yet four hours' march ere we reach it, so we had best bepacking quickly."

  Thereupon we finished our meal in haste, the guides still lying on theground eating onions, and when we were prepared to start they still laythere and would not budge. On this ensued another discussion, veryindignant and passionate on the part of Don Sanchez, and as cool andphlegmatic on the side of the guides, the upshot of which was, as welearned from Don, that these rascals maintained they had fulfilled theirbargain in bringing us over into Spain, but as to carrying us toRavellos they would by no means do that without the permission of theirzefe, who was one of those they had whistled to from our last haltingplace, and whom they were now staying for.

  Then, beginning to quake a bit at the strangeness of this treatment, welooked about us to see if we might venture to continue our journeyalone. But Lord! one might as easily have found a needle in a bundle ofhay as a path amidst this labyrinth of rocks and horrid fissures thatenvironed us; and this was so obvious that the guides, though not yetpaid for their service, made no attempt to follow or to stay us, asknowing full well we must come back in despair. So there was no choicebut to wait the coming up of the zefe, the Don standing with his legsastride and his arms folded, with a very storm of passion in his face,in readiness to confront the tardy zefe with his reproaches for thisdelay and the affront offered to himself, we casting our eye longinglydown at Ravellos, and the guides silently munching their onions. Thus wewaited until the fine ear of our guides catching a sound, they rose totheir feet muttering the word "zefe," and pull off their hats as two menmounted on mules tricked out like our own, came round the corner andpulled up before us. But what was our surprise to see that the foremostof these fellows was none other than the Don Lopez de Calvados we hadentertained to supper the night before, and of whose noble family DonSanchez had been prating so highly, and not a thread better dressed thanwhen we saw him last, and full as dirty. That which gave us mostuneasiness, however, was to observe that each of these "friends" carriedan ugly kind of musket slung across his back, and a most unpleasant longsheath knife in his waist cloth.

  Not a word says our Don Sanchez, but feigning still to believe him a manof quality, he returns the other Don's salutation with all the ceremonypossible. Then Don Lopez, smiling from ear to ear, begs us (as I learntafterwards) to pardon him for keeping us waiting, which had nothappened, he assures us, if we had not suffered him to oversleephimself. He then informs us that we are now upon his domain, and begs usto accept such hospitality as his Castillo will furnish, in return forour entertainment of last night. To this Don Sanchez replies with athousand thanks that we are anxious to reach Ravellos before nightfall,and that, therefore, we will be going at once if it is all the same tohim. With more bowing and scraping Don Lopez amiably but firmly declinesto accept any refusal of his offer or to talk of business before hisdebt of gratitude is paid. With that he gives a sign to our guides, whoat once lead off our mules at a brisk trot, leaving us to follow on footwith Don Lopez and his companion, whom he introduces as Don Ruiz delPuerto,--as arrant a cut-throat rascal to look at as ever I clapt eyeson.

  So we with very dismal forebodings trudge on, having no other course totake, Don Sanchez, to make the best of it, warranting that no harm shallcome to us while we are under the hospitable protection of a Spaniard,but to no great effect--our faith being already shaken in his valuationof Spaniards.

  Quitting the tableland, ten minutes of leaping and scrambling brought usto a collection of miserable huts built all higgledy-piggledy along theedge of a torrent, overtopped by a square building of more consequence,built of grey stone and roofed with slate shingles, but with nothing butill-shaped holes for windows; and this, Don Lopez with some pride toldus was his castillo. A ragged crew of women and children, apprised ofour coming by the guide, maybe, trooped out of the village to meet usand hailed our approach with shouts of joy, "for all the world like apack of hounds at the sight of their keeper with a dish of bones,"whispers Jack Dawson in my ear ominously. But it was curious to see howthey did all fall back in two lines, those that had hats taking them offas Don Lopez passed, he bowing to them right and left, like any princein his progress.

  So we up to the castillo, where all the men of the village are assembledand all armed like Don Lopez, and they greet us with cries of "Hola!"and throwing up of hats. They making way for us with salutations on bothsides, we enter the castillo, where we find one great ill-paved roomwith a step-ladder on one side leading to the floor above, but nofurniture save a table and some benches of wood, all black and shiningwith grease and dirt. But indeed the walls, the ceiling, and all elseabout us was beyond everything for blackness, and this was easily to beunderstood, for a wench coming in with a cauldron lights a faggot ofwood in a corner, where was no chimney to carry off the smoke, but onlya hole in the wall with a kind of eaves over it, so that presently theplace was so filled with the fumes 'twas difficult to see across it.

  Don Lopez (always as gracious as a cat with a milkmaid) asks Mollthrough Don Sanchez if she would like to make her toilette, while dinn
eris preparing, and at this offer all of us jump--choosing anything for achange; so he takes us up the step-ladder to the floor above, whichdiffers from that below in being cut up into half a dozen pieces by somelow partition of planks nailed loosely together like cribs for cattle,with some litter of dry leaves and hay in each, but in other respectsbeing just as naked and grimy, with a cloud of smoke coming up throughthe chinks in the floor.

  "You will have the sole use of these chambers during your stay," saysDon Lopez, "and for your better assurance you can draw the ladder upafter you on retiring for the night."

  But for the gravity of our situation and prospects I could have burstout laughing when Don Sanchez gave us the translation of this promise,for the idea of regarding these pens as chambers was not less ludicrousthan the air of pride with which Don Lopez bestowed the privilege ofusing 'em upon us.

  Don Lopez left us, promising to send a maid with the necessaryappointments for Moll's toilette.

  "A plague of all this finery!" growled Dawson. "How long may it be,think you, Senor, ere we can quit this palace and get to one of thoseposadas you promised us?"

  Don Sanchez hunched his shoulders for all reply and turned away to hidehis mortification. And now a girl comes up with a biggin of water on herhead, a broken comb in her hand, and a ragged cloth on her arm thatlooked as if it had never been washed since it left the loom, and setsthem down on a bench, with a grin at Moll; but she, though notover-nice, turns away with a pout of disgust, and then we to get abreath of fresh air to a hole in the wall on the windward side, where westand all dumb with disappointment and dread until we are called down todinner. But before going down Don Sanchez warns us to stand on our bestbehaviour, as these Spaniards, for all their rude seeming, were of aparticularly punctilious, ticklish disposition, and that we might comebadly out of this business if we happened to displease them.

  "I cannot see reason in that, Senor," says Dawson; "for the less weplease 'em, the sooner they are likely to send us hence, and so thebetter for us."

  "As you please," replies the Don, "but my warning is to your advantage."

  Down we go, and there stands Don Lopez with a dozen choice friends, allthe raggedest, dirty villains in the world; and they saluting us, wereturn their civility with a very fair pretence and take the seatsoffered us--they standing until we are set. Then they sit down, and eachman lugs out a knife from his waist-cloth. The cauldron, filled with amess of kid stewed in a multitude of onions, is fetched from the fire,and, being set upon a smooth board, is slid down the table to our host,who, after picking out some titbits for us, serves himself, and soslides it back, each man in turn picking out a morsel on the end of hisknife. Bearing in mind Don Sanchez's warning, we do our best to eat ofthis dish; but, Heaven knows! with little relish, and mighty glad whenthe cauldron is empty and that part of the performance ended. Then thebones being swept from the table, a huge skin of wine is set before DonLopez, and he serves us each with about a quart in an odd-shaped vesselwith a spout, which Don Sanchez and his countrymen use by holding itabove their heads and letting the wine spurt into their mouths; but we,being unused to this fashion, preferred rather to suck it out of thespout, which seemed to them as odd a mode as theirs was to us. However,better wine, drink it how you may, there is none than the wine of theseparts, and this reconciling us considerably to our condition, welistened with content to their singing of ditties, which they did verywell for such rude fellows, to the music of a guitar and a tambourine.And so when our pots came to be replenished a second time, we were allmighty merry and agreeable save Jack Dawson, who never could take hisliquor like any other man, but must fall into some extravagant humour,and he, I perceived, regarded some of the company with a very sour,jealous eye because, being warmed with drink, they fell to castingglances at Moll with a certain degree of familiarity. Especially therewas one fellow with a hook nose, who stirred his bile exceedingly,sitting with his elbows on the table and his jaws in his hands, andwould scarcely shift his eyes from Moll. And since he could not make hisdispleasure understood in words, and so give vent to it and be done,Jack sat there in sullen silence watching for an opportunity to show hisresentment in some other fashion. The other saw this well enough, butwould not desist, and so these two sat fronting each other like two dogsready to fly at each other's throats. At length, the hook-nosed rascal,growing bolder with his liquor, rises as if to reach for his wine pot,and stretching across the table, chucks Moll under the chin with hisgrimy fingers. At this Jack flinging out his great fist with all theforce of contained passion, catches the other right in the middle of theface, with such effect that the fellow flies clean back over his bench,his head striking the pavement with a crash. Then, in an instant, allhis fellows spring to their feet, and a dozen long knives flash out fromtheir sheaths.