The Princess Galva: A Romance

by David Whitelaw

  CHAPTER XIV

  AT CASA LUZO

  Leading out of the town of Corbo, the Alcador road ascends steeply tothe Palace Square, where, leaving the royal residence on its left, itwinds away over a stretch of desolate brown moorland and cuts its waythrough the Yeldo Hills at the Quinlon Pass. Once through, the redfluted roofs of Alcador and the yellow belfry of its church lie spreadout before one.

  And all the way to the hills the road has for its constant companionthe blue Ardentella, running first this side and then that. The manybridges where the road crosses the river are quaint old structures, thearchitecture of which plainly points to their origin being Moorish.

  The casual traveller journeying on this road would pass the Casa Luzowithout being aware of its existence. At one time the tower showedabove the trees, a landmark for miles around, but that was long ago,and, as the stout stonework had crumbled into ruin, so had the forestspread in density, so that there was now little likelihood of thejagged tower that mingled with the tree tops being noted. True, therewas a gateway, but there were no gates hanging on its hinges; only twogaunt pillars of stone, their bases hidden in a rank mass of herbage.

  Count Ribero, in whose family the castle had been since Alfonso VIreigned over Spain, never visited his ancestral home, the gay youngnobleman preferring the little villa on the shore at San Sebastianwhich had come to him from his mother. Dasso, therefore, by hisdistant cousin's invitation made free with the place for all purposeswithout compunction.

  At his own expense he had made a few rooms inhabitable, and the huntingparties and carousals which he had held there had been until latelyvery popular amongst the gilded youth of the San Pietro army.

  But of late years Dasso's orgies had been less frequent. Politicalambitions had taken up the time of that enterprising gentleman, and therooms were beginning to show the effects of non-usage. Large patchesof damp were making their appearance on walls and ceilings, and thesomewhat gaudy hangings and furniture were fast becoming the happyhunting ground of moth.

  Old Pieto felt a thrill of superstitious awe as he turned the key inthe massive lock. A chill wind pierced him as he threw open the greatdoor and stepped into the gloomy hall. The lantern he carried threwshaking patches of ochre light on the flagged floor, and an army ofrats and spiders scampered away at the approach of this intruder intheir domains. One great fellow stood his ground, regarding theintruder with beady black eyes in which the rays of the lantern touchedlittle pin points of flame. With a cry old Pieto flung the heavydoor-key, and, squeaking, old King Rat disappeared.

  A woman with a thin wrinkled face had been peering over the old man'sshoulder, and now she followed him timidly into the hall, holding herskirts well above her ankles and looking fearsomely at the desolationaround her. On her arm she carried a large basket, which she now setdown at the foot of the staircase.

  Old Pieto remembered the last occasion when he had been there, some twomonths ago, when a supper had been organized by Dasso to celebrate thebenefit of La Belle Espanzo at the Casino, and as he opened the door ofthe dining-hall the scene came back to him in full force.

  The long oaken table from which the cloth had been half snatched wasstill littered with the _debris_ of the feast. The old manservant knewthat he ought to have cleared it away, but it was a long journey fromCorbo, and it had been put off. A tall epergne in the centre of thetable had been overturned, and flowers, yellow and brittle, weretumbled together with the wrinkled mummies of fruit, and lay in ascattered heap on the oak floor. He remembered how the young bloodshad toasted the lovely dancer, drinking champagne from her slipper.The little high-heeled satin drinking vessel still lay on the table,shapeless now and stained with wine. Pieto noticed that a giant spiderweb stretched from the dainty rosette of the shoe to the back of one ofthe carved chairs.

  The sight of the disarray of wine bottles suggested the cellar to theold man, and, still carrying the lantern, he descended the broken stonesteps at the end of the passage, reappearing almost immediately with acouple of tall thin-necked flasks.

  He called his wife and bade her make a fire in the open grate, and soonthe blaze shone merrily on the tarnished silver and glass on the tableand threw weird and flickering shadows into the corners of the darkpanelled walls.

  The worthy couple, with chairs drawn up to the genial warmth, attackedthe bottles gratefully. It was no joke for the master to pack them offto this spot in the dead of night. The journey had been a long andwearisome one, they had had to walk the last quarter of a mile, and ithad rained a little as they came through the forest.

  But there was work to do and to do quickly. Pieto was content tosuperintend operations, and he issued orders from his armchair, whileTeresa cleared the _debris_ from the table. The old fellow, warmed bythe wine he had taken, entertained his wife with reminiscences of thefeast. He rubbed his skinny hands together as he talked.

  "Ah, that was a night, Teresa--the wine flowed like water--the best inthe cellars, too. And the beautiful Espanzo--divine!" the oldreprobate kissed the grimy tips of his fingers, "blue-black hair, and amouth like a splash of wine--and--her eyes as she danced!"

  The old woman seemed not to hear him, working steadily, piling thebroken glass and fruit into the table-cloth and tying up the fourcorners. Her husband looked shrewdly at her from beneath his shaggybrows and rambled on.

  "On the table, too, she danced, all among the wine and the flowers--andme, too. The gentlemen made me, old Pieto, dance with her, and, as wedanced, she sang the tune--how did it go?--yes," and the ancient brokeout into a wheezing treble of a weird and sensuous melody, ending in aharsh chuckle as his wife left the room, taking her bundle with her.

  Candles had been set upright in the sconces and shed a soft light onthe handsome old apartment, to which duster and broom soon gave a lookof respectability. The old woman paused and surveyed her work.

  "And where is she to be put?" she asked the figure by the fire, who,with goblet in hand, had fallen again to his humming.

  "Eh--oh," and he pointed to the ceiling. "Above here, I suppose, forthe present--the Duchess room. Hurry, Teresa, it'll be daylight soon.Put a fire up there, the room will be damp--ugh!"

  "Ah, you can shiver, Pieto. Why don't you work and get warmth intoyour old blood? Get me a few logs from the outhouse, won't you? Idon't like rats."

  "Ay, I'll do that for you. Get you upstairs. I'll bring them up."

  Pieto relit the lantern, and his shuffling footsteps died away down thestone passage. There was a creak of rusty bolts and a gust of thechill air that comes before the dawn flickered the candles in thedining-room.

  Outside, the old man made his way across a paved court-yard, the stonesof which were worn and cracked with age, and little blades of tendergreen showed between the crevices. One side of the yard wascolonnaded, and the moonlight cut clear designs of shadow among thelichen-covered pillars. On the other three sides a high stone wallseparated the house and yard from the forest. Pieto could see thesharp silhouettes of the tall pine tops against the star-strewn sky.The rain had ceased, and there was a delicious freshness in the air,and the woodland was alive with the tiny noises of the night.

  A bat zigzagged before the man's eyes, and he hurried on his errand.He collected an armful of logs from a shed in the corner and hastenedback to the fire. He did not forget to pay another visit to the cellaron his way.

  By the time Teresa's labours were finished birds were calling to theirmates, and the higher branches of the trees were flushed with the dawn.The dining-room showed ghostly as she entered it. Her husband wasstill before the nearly dead fire, his arms hanging inertly on eitherside, the finger-tips touching the floor. A broken glass lay at hisfeet, and the red wine had run into a little pool. The rays of thenewly-risen sun struggled through the escutcheoned panes and cast avariegated sheen over all, and a candle which had outlasted its fellowsshone with a pale sickly light. Teresa laid a heavy hand on theshoulder of her sleeping lord.

  "Pig,"
she said.

  A snore was strangled at its birth, and Pieto sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  "I've been asleep," he said, as though the fact were one that calledfor amazement.

  "You've been drunk, you mean. Get out to the yard, man, and to thepump, and go and lie down on the bed up-stairs. A nice thing," shewent on, "if our visitor arrives and those who bring her find you likethis. I still have work to do."

  The old man looked sullen but did not answer. He ran his tongue roundhis parched mouth and did as he was bid, while his wife, upon whom thisunwonted night-work seemed to have little or no effect, busied herselfin the kitchen.

  It was about mid-day when a cautious tap at the window brought herhastily to the front of the building. Lieutenant Mozara, his facewhite and drawn, stood leaning against one of the stone pillars thatsupported the portico.

  "Is all ready? Where's Pieto?"

  Murmuring some answer, Teresa ran back into the house, and in a momentreturned with her husband. He was but half-awake, but at the sight ofthe lieutenant he pulled himself together. He saluted the officer, andtogether the two men ran through the belt of woodland which lay betweenthe house and the road.

  Gaspar had done his work well. The figure of Galva Baxendale laystretched out on the little ribbon of grass that ran beside the road.The car stood vibrating beside her, and with an oath Gaspar ran to itand shut off the engine. Then without further delay the men lifted theunconscious girl and made their way back to the house.

  The lieutenant waited only long enough to drain the glass of wineTeresa had poured out for him. His hand shook so that the liquorsplashed upon the door-stone, and the glass rattled against his teethas he drank.

  It was evident that the old couple had had their instructions, forhardly a word passed between Mozara and them during the whole time. Inthe rest of the programme Pieto and his wife knew their parts.

  When the captive was safely locked away in the room above, they setabout making preparations for the meals of the day. Now and again thewoman ascended the creaking stairs and listened at the door of theDuchess room. They had been given to understand that the effect of thechloroform would take some few hours to wear off, but dusk fell andstill the victim gave no sign. Then night came down on the castle, andin the dining-room the candles were lit and shone on the sallow facesof the two old people who, with ears nervously strained, still waitedand listened.

  A night bird screamed in the forest behind them, echoing eerily aroundthe still castle.