CHAPTER X
A MAN AND HIS PRICE
These were memorable days for all the three youths, who so unexpectedlyfound themselves within the Convent of Montblanch. The Cristinosoldiery, having fraternised with the Abbey cooks, and having beentreated well from the Abbey cellars, departed about their business,leaving guards behind them to watch the exits and entrances of thehill-set monastery.
Then a peace majestic, and apparently eternal as the circle of themountains, settled down upon Montblanch. Of all the men who dwelt there,monk and novice, lay-brother and serving-man, only two, the AbbotBaltasar and the gloomy Confessor, knew that the Abbey of the Virgin,after existing six hundred years, and increasing in riches and dignityall the while, had but eight weeks more in which to live its sweet andcloistered life.
For the rest the Abbot was the most unconcerned of all, and as to theConfessor, even a sentence of immediate execution could not have addedto the consistent funereal gloom of his countenance.
But to the three young men, altogether relieved from any cares of mind,body, or estate, these days of peace revealed new worlds. Thesweet-tongued bells which called dreamily to morning prayer awoke themin their cells. The soft yet fresh mountain air that came in throughtheir open windows, the Psalms chanted in a strange tongue, the walks tothe caves of the hermits, and the sanctuaries of the saints scattered upand down the mountain steeps, had gone far to convince John Mortimerthat there had been religion in the world before the coming of hisfather's Primitive Methodism. Even hare-brained Rollo grew lessargumentative, and it was remarked that on several occasions he left hislong sword Killiecrankie behind him when he pilgrimed to the conventualchapel.
As for Brother Hilario, he became so saintly that his man-servant,Francois (who regretted bitterly the Palais Royal and its joys), hauntedhim with offers to convey mission or missives to _la petite_ Concha ofSarria with the utmost discretion, only to be repulsed with scorn.
To chant in the choir, to live laborious days, to count the linen of thebrotherhood, to ride a white mule, and to sleep in a whitewashed cell,these were in future to be the simple daily pleasures of BrotherHilario, late Count of Saint Pierre. Never more would he sing a lustyserenade beneath a lady's window, never more throw his cloak about hismouth and follow a promising adventure at a carnival masquerade.
These grey monastery walls were to contain his life for ever. Its simplerange of duties and frugal pleasures were to satisfy him till the daywhen, the inhabitant of one of its rocky cells, he should be found deadupon a stiff frosty morning, and the bones of this new Saint Hilario(and eke the stone on which he had sat), would be added to the others inthe reliquary chamber of the Abbey.
There were, however, at least two objections to this. Firstly, BrotherHilario was not yet twenty-five years of age and a Frenchman, with theblood of youth running very hotly in his veins; and, secondly, unlessthe unexpected happened, the monastery in two months more would cease toexist upon the face of the earth.
The Abbot cultivated the society of all the three youths. But as theEnglishman spoke little French and no Spanish, as the manner of hisnation is, their intercourse was, of course, restricted. Nevertheless,the affair of the Priorato wine went forward apace, and the bargain wasstruck with the almoner of the convent at a rate which satisfied allparties. John Mortimer paid L90 down in hard cash as earnest of theprice, being the balance of the private venture with which he meant topurchase the right to return to Chorley and its paternal spindles.
But the preference of the Abbot for the headstrong Scot of Fife was toomanifest to be ignored, and many were the speculations among thebrethren as to what might be the purpose of Don Baltasar in thusspending so much of his time with a stripling heretic.
That he had such purpose none doubted, nor that the results would in duetime be seen to the honour of the Holy House of Montblanch. For thoughthe brethren used the dearest privilege of all brotherhoods--that ofgrumbling freely at the Superior--none questioned either Don Baltasar'scapacity or his single-mindedness where the Order was concerned.
The Abbot sounded the depths of the young man. He met his Scottishcaution with a frank confession of his purpose.
"I am putting my life and the lives of all these good and holy men inyour hands, Don Rollo," he said. "Any day there may be a Nationalistarmy here. Their outposts are watching us even now. A fugitive waspursued to the very altar of sanctuary the other night! What! You sawhim? Ah, of course, it was the night when our pleasant acquaintanceshipbegan. Frankly, then, we are all Carlists here, Don Rollo. We stand forthe King, who alone will stand for us."
"Your secret, or any secret, is safe with me," said Rollo grandly,turning his quick frank eyes upon the Prior. "Not death--no, nortorture--could drag a word from me against my will."
The Abbot perused him with his eyes thoughtfully for a moment.
"No, I do not think they would," he said slowly, and without his usualsmile.
"Further, I would desire to enlist you as a recruit," he went on, aftera pause. "There are many English fighting in our ranks, but few of yourbrave northern nation. Don Rollo, we need such men as you are. We cangive them a career. Indeed, I have at present a mission in hand such asmight make the fortune of any brave man. It is worth a general'scommission if rightly carried through. Not many young men have such achance at twenty-two. Ah, rogue, rogue--I heard of your doings the othernight down at the inn of San Vicente, and of how with your sole swordyou held at bay a score of Migueletes and Aragonese gipsies--smartfellows with their knives all of them!"
"It was nothing," said Rollo modestly; "the cowards did not meanfighting. It was never in their eyes."
"Pardon me," said the Prior, "I know these fellows a great deal betterthan you, and it was a very great deal indeed. Your life hung upon theturning of a hair!"
"Well, for that time the hair turned my way, at any rate," said Rollo,who honestly thought nothing of the affair, and did not wish the Abbot,if he had indeed serious business on hand, to measure him by a littlepublic-house _fracas_.
"Ah," said he gently, "you follow your star! It is good policy for thosewho would go far. Also I think that your star will lead you shortly intosome very good society."
The Abbot paused a little ere he made the plunge. Perhaps even hissteadfast pulse felt the gravity of the occasion.
Then he began to speak--lightly, rapidly, almost nervously, with thesharp staccato utterance with which Don Baltasar concealed his intensestemotion.
"The commission is a great one," said the Abbot. "This great Order, andall the servants of God in Spain, depend for their lives on you. If yousucceed, Don Carlos will assuredly sit on the throne of his fathers; ifyou fail, there is an end. But it is necessary that you should carrywith you your two friends. I, on my part, will give you a guide whoknows every pass and bridle-path, every cave and shelter-stone, betwixthere and Madrid."
"Then I am to go to Madrid?"
"Not, as I hope, to Madrid, but to La Granja, where your work will awaityou. It is, as you may know, a palace on the slopes of the Guadarramamountains, much frequented by the court of the Queen-Regent at Madrid."
"There is to be no bloodshed among the prisoners?" said Rollo. "Fightingis very well, but I am not going to be heart or part in any shootingsof unarmed men!"
"My friend," said the Abbot, with affectionate confidentiality, layinghis arm on the young man's sleeve, "I give you my word of honour. Allyou have to do is to bring two amiable and Catholic ladies here--theLady Cristina and her little maid. They are eager to be reconciled tomother Church, but are prevented by evil councillors. They will comegladly enough, I doubt not, so soon as they are informed of theirdestination."
"Well," said Rollo, "on these conditions I will undertake the task; butas to those who are there in the palace with her? How are they to fare?"
"Your instructions," said the Abbot, "are these. You will go first tothe camp of General Cabrera, to whom I will give you a letter. He willfurnish you with such escort as may be thought desirable. You w
ill alsoreceive from him detailed orders as to what you must do when you arriveat La Granja. And I will see to it that you go from this place with acolonel's commission in the service of Carlos V. of Spain. Does thatsatisfy you?"
It did, but for all that the Abbot gave Rollo no hint as to what was tobe the fate of those who might be taken at La Granja in the company ofthe little queen and her mother, the Regent Maria Cristina.
There was no difficulty at all about Etienne Saint Pierre, but JohnMortimer was all for devoting his energies to the task of getting hiscasks of Priorato down to Barcelona for shipment. It was only after hehad seen the Nationalist guards stave in cask after cask of his belovedwine, on which he was depending to lay the foundation of his fortune,drinking as much as they could, and letting the rest run to waste on thehillside, that the sullen English anger arose, and burned hotly in thebosom of John Mortimer.
"Then I will help to clear them out of the country, if they will not letme ship the property I have bought and paid good earnest money upon! Ican shoot a pistol as well as any one--if the man is only near enough!"
So presently, these three, and another behind them, were riding out ofthe gates of Montblanch, a colonel's commission in the army of DonCarlos in Rollo's breast-pocket, a monopoly promise of all the Prioratowine for six years in that of John Mortimer, and in Brother Hilario's adispensation absolving him for the length of his military service fromall conventual and other vows.
It is difficult to say which of the three was the happiest.
"That bit of paper is worth more than a thousand pounds any day atBarcelona!" said John Mortimer triumphantly, slapping the pocket whichcontained the Abbot's undertaking about the Priorato. "It is as good asdone if only I can get those sixty hogsheads down to the sea, as anearnest of what is to come!"
Ah, if only, indeed!
Rollo smiled quietly as he put his hand into his pocket, and touched thecolonel's commission that nestled there.
"I must keep a tight rein on my command," he said. "I hear these Carlistfellows are the devil and all!"
But as for Brother Hilario, it is grievous to state that he stood up inhis stirrups and hallooed with pure joy when he lost sight of themonastery towers, that he threw his pocket breviary into a ditch, andconcealed carefully the jewelled crucifix in the breast of his bluevelvet coat--with the intent, as he openly averred, of pawning it sosoon as they got to Madrid.
He turned round upon the huge attendant--a simple Gallegan peasant byhis dress--who followed them by order of the Abbot.
"By the way, sirrah," he cried, "we pass through the village of Sarria,do we not?"
The Gallegan lifted a pair of eyes that burned slumberously, like redcoals in a smith's furnace, and with a strange smile replied, "Yes,_caballero_, we do pass through Sarria."
As for the Prior, he stood at the gate where he had given the lads hisbenediction, and watched them out of sight. Father Anselmo was at hiselbow, but half a pace behind.
"There they go," said the Prior. "God help them if the Nationalistsoverhaul them. They carry enough to hang them all a dozen times over.But praise to St. Vincent and all the saints, nothing to compromise us,nor yet the Abbey of Our Lady of Montblanch!"
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