Boys of the Light Brigade: A Story of Spain and the Peninsular War

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER XXVI*

  *Wanted: Don Miguel Priego*

  Circumstantial Evidence--A Council of War--Miguel's Despatch--AStatement of Facts--The Inevitable Inference--Shambles--In theBelfry--Without Guile--The People's Curse

  Jack had had so many evidences of Pepito's sagacity that he could notdoubt the accuracy of the boy's report. The shoe buckles almostcertainly belonged to Don Miguel. From this one seed of fact sprang awhole sheaf of problems. Miguel had been in the room when theguerrillero was murdered; he may not have dealt the blow himself, butcertainly he was there. Then why was he there? Had he learnt that theman was an afrancesado and gone personally to serve him as every goodSpaniard would wish to serve a traitor? That was improbable, for themurder had been committed in secret, no report had been made of it, andMiguel was not the man to let slip the chance of adding to hispopularity by ridding the city of a domestic foe. No, he had not goneto the house as an enemy; could he have gone to it as a friend? Whatbond of union could there be between Don Miguel Priego, in civil life awell-to-do merchant and now also major in Palafox's hussars, and a poorobscure peasant who had no standing whatever as a citizen or a soldier?

  Suddenly the idea came to him: could Miguel have visited the man becausehe was an afrancesado? The suggestion was like the letting out of aflood. Jack recalled the suspicious entry of Miguel and his man intoSaragossa; the strange tale about an overpowered sentry; the curiousreappearance of a sentinel in the French trenches almost immediatelyafterwards. Had Miguel got in, not in spite of the French, but withtheir connivance? His rapid journey across country from Seville: howcould that be accounted for unless he had been helped through thedistricts in French occupation, and provided with relays of post-horsesat every stage? The inevitable conclusion was that Miguel was himselfan afrancesado, and had come into the city on some traitorous errand.Knowing that the guerrillero was of the same kidney, he had visited himfor some purpose of his own. A quarrel had arisen; during the struggleone of his buckles had been wrenched off, and it lay unnoticed on thefloor. It was improbable that Miguel himself had dealt Quintanar thefatal blow; but, remembering Perez, the one-eyed man, Jack was in littledoubt where to look for the assassin.

  There was only one thing wanted to complete his assurance of Miguel'streachery. Miguel had certainly brought to Palafox a despatch from theSupreme Junta at Seville. If he were a true Spaniard, and had reallygained admittance to the city by a hazardous feat of arms, the despatchmust have been intact when Palafox received it. On the other hand, ifMiguel was a spy, in the pay of the French, it was little likely thatthey would have allowed a despatch to pass through their lines withoutmastering its contents. In that case they must have found means to openand read it, without leaving anything to arouse suspicion in the mind ofPalafox when he received it. How was that possible? Palafox wouldcertainly have remarked any sign of tampering with the seal; thedespatch could not have been opened without tampering with the seal, andthat-- Stay! Jack vaguely remembered having read somewhere that a sealcould be removed by dexterously slipping a thin hot blade between it andthe paper. Had that been done with Miguel's despatch? The question hadno sooner formed itself in Jack's mind than conviction flashed upon him;he felt absolutely sure that the man he had always so much disliked onpersonal grounds was a renegade and a traitor.

  Next morning he rose from his bed unrefreshed, but with a plan of actionformed. He made his dispositions for the continued defence of hisdistrict with keenness and care. Then, somewhat after one o'clock, heleft the work in charge of Don Cristobal, and made his way by narrowlanes towards the other end of the city. The streets were almostentirely deserted now; only a few brave women and ministering priestswent about fearlessly on errands of mercy. All the men were engaged onthe ramparts or in the houses, striving with dogged energy to hinder thecreeping advance of the French. He had crossed the part of the citymost in danger from bombardment or mines when he met Tio Jorge, whom hehad not seen for a few days.

  "Tio," he said, "can you come with me? I am going to see the general,and I should like you to be with me."

  "Assuredly, Senor. And in truth, I think it well you should have afriend with you, for the murmurs against you are growing stronger. Itis whispered that an afrancesado was lately slain in your quarter, andmen are saying that he was not the only one there. They are puzzled,for if you are an afrancesado, as some think, why are you fighting theFrench so desperately every day? I only tell you what they think andsay, Senor; it is well I am your friend."

  Jack set his lips; he traced this to Miguel's inveterate malice.Hurrying along with the big peasant, he arrived at the AljafferiaCastle, and was admitted after some delay to Palafox's room. Thegeneral had now taken to his bed; the fever had gained a terrible holdupon him, and but for his indomitable spirit he would probably ere thishave died. He was surrounded by a group of his advisers, among them DonBasilio, Santiago Sass, Padre Consolacion, and General San March, who,having failed to hold the Monte Torrero against the French in the earlydays of the siege, had since been under a cloud. The priests scowled atJack as he approached; the lean Santiago Sass and the rotund PadreConsolacion looked at him with equal distrust.

  "Come, Tio Jorge," said General San March, "you are in time to supportme. I have been asking the captain-general to allow me to lead a sortieacross the Ebro, now that the French are weakened there by thewithdrawal of so many men."

  "Useless, useless!" cried Palafox from his bed.

  "Useless, Senores!" echoed Tio Jorge. "What men have we now forsorties? Three weeks ago, yes; but now--most of our men can hardlystagger under the weight of their muskets. The time for sorties ispast; but let us hope the French are withdrawn from San Lazaro by newsof our brothers coming to aid us--"

  "And we will never give in, never give in!" cried Santiago Sass. "No,not even though traitors within our walls give the gates to the enemy."

  Tio Jorge was on the point of resenting, on Jack's behalf, the glarewith which the priest accompanied these words; but Jack laid his hand onthe man's arm, and, advancing to the bedside, spoke to the worn figurelying there.

  "You remember, Senor, the despatch that was brought to you from theSupreme Junta, little more than a week ago, by one of your officers whomade his way by night through the French lines?"

  "I remember it."

  "You have that despatch still?"

  "I have. Why do you ask?"

  "Pardon me, Senor, you will see in a few moments. You observed nothingunusual about the seal?"

  "Nothing."

  "It was the usual seal of the Junta," put in Don Basilio. "I have thedespatch."

  "Will you allow me to look at it?"

  The chaplain hesitated; he appeared to be about to ask a question, butTio Jorge interposed.

  "The despatch, Senor Padre! The Senor has a reason; I know it not, buthe fought with me by the Casa Ximenez, and what he says, por Dios! thereis sense in it."

  "Produce the despatch, Padre," said Palafox.

  Don Basilio went to a cabinet, and after a little search found thedespatch and handed it to Jack. The seal was broken across the middle.Jack examined the edges carefully, lifting the wax slightly with histhumb nail. He looked up.

  "It is as I thought," he said. "Will Don Basilio look?"

  The priest took the paper and looked at it with an air of puzzlement andsurprise.

  "I see red wax and paper," he said coldly. "What of that?"

  "Do you not see, Senor Padre, a slight browning of the paper beneath, asthough it had been scorched?"

  The chaplain scrutinized the seal again. The other priests watched himin silence; Palafox kept his burning eyes fixed on Jack; and Tio Jorgestood with his lips parted as though wondering what deep mystery wasconcerned here.

  "I do see a faint coloration," said Don Basilio at length; "a lighttinge at the edge of the wax, becoming a little darker beneath the seal.What then?"

  "This, Senor. The pap
er, I suggest, was scorched by the passage of ahot keen blade beneath the seal."

  There was a painful silence. Then Tio Jorge cried, "Por Dios! thatexplains everything. It is all clear. The man that brought it is avillain, an afrancesado, Senores! And 'tis he who has sought to harmthe brave English Senor here! Death to all traitors! Death to DonMiguel Priego!"

  "Stay, stay!" said Padre Consolacion, his round face wearing a look ofconcern. "This is a terrible charge to bring against a reputablecitizen of Saragossa."

  "One of my own hussars," murmured Palafox.

  "He was my pupil," continued the padre. "I have known him since he wasan infant. I knew his father, an estimable man; he cannot be a traitor.If the despatch was opened, it must have been without his knowledge. Ofthat I am sure."

  "The evidence is not sufficient--not sufficient," said Palafox. "Youmust be mistaken, Senor Lumsden."

  "I am sorry, Senores," returned Jack; "but will you bear with me while Iput certain facts before you? You remember how strangely Don Miguelmade his entrance into the city some days ago? He had overcome asentinel, he and his man, and came by night across the Huerba, scalingour ramparts by the aid of muskets held out to him by two of DonCasimir's men. I was present, Senores, at the time. I had just gone totake over the command with which the Senor Capitan-general honoured me,and was walking along the ramparts with Don Casimir Ulloa, who told mehow amazed he was to see no sentinel in the French trenches, where formany nights before a sentinel had never failed to be. Even as he spokewe saw two figures creep down the slope and approach the walls. They, asyou know, were Don Miguel Priego and his man. They forded the river,clambered up the slope on our side, and were assisted over our ramparts,and we heard from Don Miguel's lips the story he told the generalafterwards."

  "It was a bold feat," interjected Padre Consolacion. "Don Miguel wasever a man of daring."

  "But, Senores," continued Jack, "no sooner was Don Miguel safely withinour walls than, in the French lines opposite, a sentinel suddenlyreappeared. Had the Frenchman, slain by Don Miguel, come to life again?Why had Don Casimir heard no sound? Would the discovery of their deadsentinel have been regarded by the French as an ordinary accident, of nomore account than the finding of a dead rat? And now we find that thedespatch brought by Don Miguel had been opened. Is it not natural toconclude that it was opened by the French, and that the temporaryabsence of the sentinel was part of an arrangement between them and DonMiguel to give colour to his story?"

  "Surmise! All baseless surmise!" said Padre Consolacion.

  "One thing more," went on Jack quietly. "The other night a man wasmurdered in my quarter of the city. He was assassinated in his room atthe top of a lofty house. In that room was found this pass through theFrench lines, and this drawing of our defences."

  Everyone started as Jack produced the papers.

  "Besides these, there was found this shoe-buckle, that had been torn offin the man's scuffle with his assailant. Two days afterwards thefellow-buckle was brought to me, and Don Miguel Priego was seen in thestreets with shoes which had both lost their buckles. It was this thatconvinced me. Had Don Miguel reason to dispute with an afrancesadounless--"

  "Enough!" cried Santiago Sass. "It is clear he is a proved villain! Tothe gallows with him! Where is he? With my own hand will I hang him inthe midst of the Coso! To the gallows! To the gallows!"

  And, gathering his cassock about him, the priest rushed madly from theroom. Almost before the door was closed behind him a tremendousexplosion set the whole building vibrating, and caused Palafox almost tojump from his bed.

  "My convent!" cried Padre Consolacion. "It is my convent at last! TioJorge, come; they will have need of us."

  "And of me!" cried Palafox, springing up.

  "Stay, Jose," said Don Basilio, "you are not fit to go out."

  "Do not stay me, Padre," answered Palafox, clasping his cloak, and withtrembling fingers buckling on his sword. "I must go; I must share thedangers of my people."

  The chaplain made no further protest, and soon Palafox, accompanied bySan March, Tio Jorge, and Jack, was hastening towards the scene of oneof the most awful catastrophes that ever befell a beleaguered city. TheFrench, undetected by the defenders, had driven a mine beneath the greatFranciscan convent, and charged it with 3000 pounds of powder. Theconvent was at the moment full of fighting-men; the cellars wereoccupied by many families of citizens; and one part of the building wascrammed with 400 workpeople, men and women, who were there engaged inmaking clothes for the soldiers. All these perished when the mine wasfired; and when Palafox arrived on the scene, the whole district formany yards around was strewn not merely with broken masonry, but withmutilated human remains.

  All thought of Don Miguel's treason was for the moment banished by thehideous spectacle. Yet, awful as the damage was, the Spaniards had notawaited the arrival of their leaders before attempting reprisals. Awide opening had been made by the explosion, in the wall near the porch;the pavement of the church of San Francisco had been torn up; altars,pulpits, columns, arches, lay in shattered fragments; but Spaniards hadrushed in from the streets, and, barricading themselves behind theruins, were showering bullets upon the incoming French. Some hadclimbed into the galleries; others had mounted by a narrow spiralstaircase into the belfry, which had strangely withstood the shock; andfrom these elevated positions they poured murderous volleys upon theinvaders. As the rays of sunlight streamed through the brokenstained-glass windows, they fell upon groups of furious combatants,imparting varied tints to the clouds of smoke and dust that rolledthrough the shattered nave, and glinting on the bayonets of the Frenchinfantry as they pressed desperately forward. The Spaniards fought withthe fury of despair. Inspirited by the presence of their idolizedgeneral, by the heroic efforts of Tio Jorge, and the fiery exhortationsof Padre Consolacion and Santiago Sass, who had soon appeared on thescene, they defended every nook and corner with obstinate tenacity, andwhen night put an end to the terrible conflict, had succeeded, at a hugecost, in driving the French from a portion of the building.

  Jack had climbed into the belfry along with a body of peasants under thecommand of a French emigre, the Comte de Fleury. He was almost overcomeby the sickening sight. All around, the roofs of the neighbouringhouses were covered with dismembered limbs; the gutters, through whichfor eight centuries nothing but rain had streamed, now ran red withblood, that poured into the street as if from the mouths of the dragons,vultures, and winged monsters that decorated the Gothic walls. He couldnot help exclaiming at the folly of maintaining a resistance againstsuch heavy odds. It was terrible enough that soldiers, whose dutybrought them face to face with sudden death, should fall by hundreds tothe French arms; but innocent and helpless citizens, young boys andgirls, were all included in this late carnage, and Jack shuddered at thedire results of what he could now only regard as sheer obstinacy andblind rage.

  Creeping down when the din was over, and French and Spaniards alike wereresting from the fray, he found that Palafox, in a complete state ofcollapse, was being carried back to his bed. Along with Tio Jorge, Jackaccompanied the sad group. The halls of the Aljafferia Castle werethronged with some of the more substantial merchants who were yet leftalive. They had come to plead with the general to ask for terms fromthe French. But at the first suggestion there arose such an outcry fromthe peasants and the poorer citizens, incited by their priests, that themerchants were in danger of being torn limb from limb. No voice waslouder than that of Santiago Sass in demanding that the defence shouldbe still continued. The French who had withdrawn from the easternsuburbs had not yet reappeared, and the priest vehemently declared thatthe catastrophe at the Franciscan convent was the turning-point of thesiege, and that from that moment the hand of Our Lady of the Pillarwould work wonders on behalf of her city. Backed up by him, the peopleclamoured for a proclamation to be issued, enjoining still morestrenuous resistance, and not till this had been drawn up by DonBasilio, and Palafox had affixed his tremulous si
gnature, did the crowddisperse.

  Jack remained for some time in the castle. He wished he was older andmore experienced. He then might have pointed out to some of thebitterest of the Junta what fearful hardship they were bringing on thecity by their insensate resistance. But he saw that they were in notemper to listen to expostulations from anyone, and he dared not speakhis thoughts even to his friend Tio Jorge. He was about to return to hisown district when he saw Padre Consolacion enter with a brisker stepthan was usual with him. The priest came straight towards him.

  "Senor, Senor," he said, with a mingled look of regret and indignation,"he that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor endureth a reproach againsthis neighbour, he shall never be moved. I knew it could not be true; Iknew the boy I taught at my knee could not be a traitor; I knew--"

  "Senor Padre," interrupted Jack, "you don't mean to say you have toldhim?"

  "Indeed, and what more natural? Is it right to condemn unheard? ShouldI not ask of the man himself what--"

  "Come to the general!" shouted Tio Jorge, catching the priest by thearm. "Come to the general! He must know of what you have done."

  They made their way to Palafox's room, where none but Don Basilioremained with him.

  "Don Jose needs sleep," said the chaplain, meeting them at the door."What do you want with him?"

  "Caramba, Padre!" cried Tio Jorge, "he must know whether the man be atraitor or not. Listen to Padre Consolacion!"

  The priest seemed amazed at the fuss Tio Jorge was making.

  "I went, Senores, to find Don Miguel Priego, to ask him, on his honour,whether there was a word of truth in the English Senor's story. He wasindignant, as I knew he would be. He demanded to know why he, a loyalson of Spain, should be suspected on such flimsy grounds. He scoffedwhen I spoke of the scorched paper, and--"

  "You told him that, Padre?" said Palafox, raising himself on his elbow.

  "I did, of course, and he flew into a passion, and said that withmorning light he would come and meet his accuser and give him the lie tohis face."

  "Send for him now; bring him here instantly. Shall there be treason inour midst? Tio Jorge, do you go and command Don Miguel Priego instantlyto my presence."

  It was an hour before Tio Jorge returned.

  "Proof! Proof of treason!" he cried furiously. "He is gone; he and hisman. See what your meddling did, Senor Padre! No sooner was your backturned than the accursed afrancesado fled."

  "Fled!" echoed the priest in consternation.

  "'Meet his accuser--give him the lie to his face', you said," exclaimedTio Jorge with bitter mockery, "'with morning light'! He is gone, andeven now, I doubt not, is making merry with the French who have hiredhim. A curse light on him! May he die by a traitor's hand, even as heis a traitor!"

  "Write, Don Basilio," said Palafox, "write a proclamation! ProclaimMiguel Priego to all men a traitor, and call upon all true men to seizeupon him and bring him before us to suffer the penalty of his crime. Myunhappy country! Let me die, let me die!"

  He turned his face to the wall. The stern chaplain wrote aproclamation; within an hour printed copies were distributed throughoutthe town, and the name of Miguel Priego, hitherto lauded to the skies,was now hissed with venomous hate by every loyal citizen of Saragossa.