CHAPTER XLVII
MENDIZABAL
Rollo and his companions rode into Madrid amid the clamour and rejoicingof thousands, as indeed he might have done behind Don Carlos had he beensuccessful in his first intention. Madrid was healthy and hungry. Theplague had been stayed by the belt of barren country which cinctures thecapital village of Spain. And as for fear, do not the inhabitants saythat what happens not in Madrid, happens not at all!
Rollo, so long accustomed to the high clear silences of the _sierra_ orthe scarcely less restful valleys where the birds sing all day in thespring, felt himself closed in and deafened by the clamour, blinded bythe brilliant colours, and in ill-humour with all things--chiefly, itmust be confessed, because Concha, attired by the Queen's ownwaiting-maid from Aranjuez, sat in a carriage with the aplomb of aduchess.
They were all in high favour. For Munoz (now more than ever the Powerbehind the Throne, and perhaps secretly proud of having played the manat the defence of the _barranco_ of Moncayo) had quickly turned the tideof the Queen-Regent's displeasure. And at this period there was scarcelyany honour that she would not have bestowed upon her preservers.
For in distracted hither-and-thither Spain of the early Carlist wars, itseemed nothing extraordinary to any one that Rollo should have savedtheir Majesties' lives with a Carlist commission in his pocket, or thatSergeant Cardono of the command of General Cabrera should have been shotdead by his superior officer while fighting vehemently for the oppositeparty. For these are incidents common to most civil wars and speciallycommon in Spain, that land of adventurous spirits with little to do andplenty of time in which to do it. Indeed a feather or a favour, thecolour of a riband or the shape of a cap, often made young men Carlistor Cristino, National or Red Republican, as the case might be.
On the third day after their arrival the privilege of a royal interviewwas granted to the young Scot. Rollo smiled as he thought of the firsthe had been favoured with, and of that other when he had started off acavalcade consisting of two Queens and an outlaw under sentence of deathwith the loud "_Arre!_" of a muleteer.
But Rollo had learned to be calm-eyed before royalties. He was aScottish gentleman, and had grown accustomed to Queens during theselatter days. Court lords and the ruck of Madrid politicians stared athim in the corridors, but, affrayed by something in his eye, meekly orreluctantly according to their mood took the wall from him as he strodeon, careless, hard-bitten, a little insolent, perhaps, in bearing. Atlast he stood in the great hall of audience, his plain well-worn coatand knee-breeches the secret scorn of every courtier. But a glance atKilliecrankie, once more a-swing by his side, was sufficient to sobertoo impertinent male interest, while the reputation of his exploits andthe keen soldierlike face which he turned so pensively towards thewindow, awakened the liveliest interest in many a pair of dark eyes.
Somewhat after this fashion ran the prattle.
"Look! there goes the man who delivered the Regent and the young Queen!They say that both Jose Maria, whom every one thought dead, and ElSarria the outlaw were of his band. More than that, it is certain thatone very near to the Queen-Regent's person was content to take servicewith him as a common soldier. How great and famous then must he be! And,above all, how certain of preferment! It were indeed well to cultivatehis acquaintance. For what shall be done to the man whom two Queens anda Consort unite in delighting to honour? His threadbare coat? A mereeccentricity of genius, my love. His huge battered sword a-dangle at hisside? It is said that he has slain over twenty men with that same blade!Decidedly not a man to be despised; speaks all languages, even thecrabbed Gitano-Castilian like a native of Valladolid. He will marry aSpanish wife and become one of _nosotros_, as did O'Donnel, Duke ofTetuan, Sarsfield, Blake, and a score of others--all once poor andneglected, now thrice-hatted and set among the finest clay of the courtpotter."
Thus in the ante-chambers of Queens spake the wily, the wise, thefar-seeing. And from such Rollo had many offers of service. But with adelicate politeness at which none could take offence he declined allthese, making (as his father had advised him) his words at once "firmand mannerly."
Thank you, but he was content to wait. He had been sent for by theQueen-Regent. Till then--but at that moment, after a preliminary peepfrom behind a curtain, the Princess herself ran skipping across thehall, and, catching Rollo by the hand, bewildered him with a chatter ofjoyous questionings.
Where was Concha? Would her brother never come back? Why had he not beenat Aranjuez? She sent him a kiss. (The which Rollo promised without failto deliver, and what is more, meant to keep his word.)
Yes (he answered with amusement), perhaps one day the Princess would seeConcha's brother again. It was certainly very dull in Madrid. Royalpalaces were as little to his liking as to that of the Princess.
Then the little lady had her turn. Did he remember when he had hiddenher underneath the great brass pot among the hay? Did he know that oncea straw had tickled her beneath the chin so funnily that she came nearto bursting out laughing? Rollo did not know, but the very thoughtturned him cold even among that throng of courtiers, all castingsidelong glances and trying to get near enough to listen politely to theconversation without appearing to do so. He seemed to be once morethreading his way through the scattered groups of gipsies, the darkbrows of Egypt bending suspiciously upon him and the royal storehousesflaring up like torches.
"Ah, there he comes--just like him!" cried the little girl, stamping herfoot after the pattern of her mother; "now you and I will have no moregood talk. But I shall wait for you at the gate when you come out.There--now bend down. I want to give you another kiss for that prettyboy, the brother of that Concha of yours!"
As she ran off Rollo found a friendly hand on his arm, and lo! there athis elbow was Don Fernando Munoz, Duke of Rianzares, come in person toconvey him into the presence. His manner was characterised by the utmostcordiality, together with a certain humanity altogether new, which madeRollo think that a few more _barrancos_ to defend would do this favouredgrandeeship a great deal of good.
Rollo had expected to be ushered into the presence of her Majesty inperson, but instead, a plain English-looking man stood alone in a littleroom, the window of which commanded a vast and desolate prospect. Therewas a tall chair with a golden crown over it at the top of a tablecovered with red cloth, while several others, all uncushioned andseverely plain, were ranged regularly about it.
The English-looking man came forward bluffly, and put out his hand toRollo. He looked more like a healthy fox-hunting squire, justintelligent enough to sit in Parliament and make speeches against reformand the corn laws, than the political confidant of a Queen of Spain.
Then in a moment it flashed through Rollo's mind that this heartyAnglo-Iberian could be none other than Mendizabal himself, the PrimeMinister of Spain, the scourge of monks and monasteries, the promisedregenerator of the finances of Spain. Another thought crossed his mindalso. He had actually not so very long ago practically accepted acommission to kill this man if he should chance to cross his path.
Yet the remembrance did not dim the brightness of the young man's smileas he took the other's hand.
"Ten to one he will talk to me about the weather," said Rollo tohimself, "to me who ought at this moment to be inserting a twelve-inchManchegan knife between his ribs."
And it fell out even as he had anticipated.
"You have been favoured with fine weather for your many adventures,"said the Prime Minister of the Queen-Regent; "it is almost like anEnglish June, clear, but with a touch of cold in the mornings and aftersunset."
Rollo modestly supplied the appropriate conversational counter.
"Your name strikes me as in some way familiar," said Mendizabal; "wasnot your father Alistair Blair of Blair Castle, a client of mine when Iwas a banker in London and operating on the Stock Exchange?"
"He was, sir," quoth candid Rollo, "not greatly to his advantage--ormine!"
The Premier coloured a little but did not alter his friendly tone.
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"Well, perhaps not," he said; "I myself lost every penny I possessed inthe world at the same time. Our Spanish stocks were not so favourable aninvestment as they have become since we obtained recognition and aguarantee from England. But when I have been turned out of my presentoccupation, I wish you would permit me to look into your affairs. Yourfather's old vouchers should be worth something now. You have not, Ihope, had to sell the old place of your ancestors?"
"No," said Rollo, carelessly; "an ancient retainer of the family livesin the castle with his wife. There is a dovecote in the yard, so theyeat the pigeons which eat the farmers' crops, who in turn forget to paytheir rents. Thus the ball rolls. And indeed the years have been so badof late that I have not asked them!"
"You prefer a life of adventure abroad?" asked the Premier, who had notceased to look at Rollo with the most earnest attention.
Rollo shrugged his shoulders slightly at the question.
"I do not know," he said simply, "I have not tried. The most ordinaryaffairs turn out adventurous with me. But then, I would rather undergoany conceivable hardship than live on in one place like a beetle pinnedto a card, able only to waggle my feet, till a merciful death put alimit to my sufferings."
Further conversation was cut short by the entrance of the Queen-Regent.Her husband conducted her to the door or rather _portiere_ curtain ofthe council-room, and immediately withdrew--a slight waving of thetapestry, however, affording some reasons for suspecting that hisExcellency the Duke of Rianzares had not removed himself the entiredistance required by etiquette from the councils of his Sovereign.
Maria Cristina extended first to Mendizabal and then to Rollo a plumphand to kiss.
"I have to thank you," she said to the latter, not ungraciously, "forthe many and great services you have rendered to me, mydaughter--and--to other friends also. The result has certainly been mostfortunate, though the manner of service at times left something to bedesired!"
Then as Rollo kept his head modestly lowered, the Queen-Regent relenteda little, thinking him covered with confusion at her severity, whichindeed was far from being his real state of mind.
"But after all you are a brave man, of excellent parts, and personableto a degree----"
"Which in this age and country goes for no little!" said Mendizabal,bowing to the Queen as if he intended a compliment. "You have heard howour soldiers chant as they go into battle:
"'_Old Carlos is a crusty churl, But Isabel's a sweet young girl!_'"
The Queen bowed, with however a little frown upon her face. She wasnever quite sure whether her Prime Minister was laughing at her or not.Then she returned to the subject of Rollo.
"You have some employment of a sort suited to the taste of thisadventurous young man?" she went on. "I understand and sympathise withhis desire not to return to the wars in the North."
"There is the little matter of the suppression of the monasteries,"returned Mendizabal, "to take effect (as your Majesty doubtlessremembers) on the twentieth of the month. It is already the sixth. Theremay be some slight trouble where the orders are strong. I propose thatwe send this distinguished young Scottish soldier (whose noble father Ihad the honour of knowing somewhat intimately) to Valencia or theBaleares with vice-regal powers. We have great need of such men at sucha time."
Rollo gasped and bowed his head. The crimson rose to his cheek. To be aGovernor with almost regal powers and soldiers at his beck, to hold aturbulent province quiet under his hand! How he wished there were nosuch thing as "honour" anywhere, keeping him by mere iteration andirritancy to the resolution his conscience had extorted from him.
Mendizabal thought the young man only doubtful of his capacity, andpatted him on the shoulder with fatherly tolerance and encouragement.
"You will do very well," he said kindly, "we will give you a free hand,full powers, and as many soldiers as you want. Besides, the Carlistshave been some while in these regions, and we have not been able to getour own men. Now you can look them up!"
Then Rollo, suddenly finding words, spoke his mind fully and freely.
"I cannot go," he said; "at least, not till I have fulfilled a sacredduty which lies heavily upon me. I took up a charge. I have notfulfilled it. I cannot serve the Queen-Regent till I have laid down thatwhich I undertook, and to the person who charged me with the mission!"
The Queen stared at the bold young man, but the Prime Ministerunderstood better.
"It is his point of honour," he explained to Maria Cristina; "those ofhis nation cannot help it. It is in the blood and in the gloomy creedwhich they profess--a sour and inconvenient religion in which there isno confession."
"No confession!" cried the Queen, casting up her hands in horror, "noabsolution! How then can they go on living from day to day?"
"Much like other people," said the Premier, smiling; "they repent, andthen--repent of their repentances!"
"And is this young man not a Christian?" cried the Queen. "Is he also ofthis dark and gloomy superstition--what was it that you called theheresy?"
"I am indeed a Presbyterian," said Rollo, smiling; "at least, my fatherwas, and I also when any one contradicts me. For the rest I am, I fear,but an indifferent Christian!"
"Ah," murmured the Queen with a reflective sigh, "then even heretics mayhave their uses. In that case it will be easier for you to oppress--Imean to argue with and convince the holy friars of the righteousintentions of the government with regard to them!"
"Well," said Mendizabal, quickly, desirous of diverting the conversationfrom a dangerous subject, "off with you, sirrah! Go satisfy thatCalvinistic conscience of yours! But first kiss her Majesty's royalhand. Let no one spoil your beauty, and return betimes to the post whichwe will keep open for you!"
Rollo did as he was bidden. He kissed the hand of the Queen, who wasgraciously pleased to give his fingers a slight pressure as hers resteda moment in his. For the handsome face and high bearing of Rollo Blairhad been working their usual way with Maria Cristina.
The Prime Minister, noting a slight movement of the _portiere_ curtains,bustled Rollo off lest he should lose his favour with the Power Behindthe Throne. But, pausing a moment at the door, he whispered in hisear--"Have you any objection to telling me the name of the person fromwhom you had this commission? I promise you upon my sacred honour thatyou shall have no cause to repent your frankness. Neither you nor heshall suffer on account of my knowledge--no, not if it were Don Carloshimself."
"His name is Don Baltasar Varela, Prior of the Abbey of Montblanch!"said Rollo, after a moment's hesitation.
"I understand," said Mendizabal, with an inscrutable expression."Nevertheless, I will keep my word."
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