Fair Margaret

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER XIV

  INEZ AND HER GARDEN

  For two hours or more John Castell and Peter travelled on the Granadaroad, running when it was smooth, walking when it was rough, andstopping from time to time to get their breath and listen. But the nightwas quite silent, no one seemed to be pursuing them. Evidently theremaining cut-throats had either taken another way or, having their fillof this adventure, wanted to see no more of Peter and his sword.

  At length the dawn broke over the great misty plain, for now they werecrossing the _vega_. Then the sun rose and dispelled the vapours, and adozen miles or more away they saw Granada on its hill. They saw eachother also, and a sorry sight they were, torn by the sharp thorns, andstained with blood from their scratches. Peter was bare-headed too, forhe had lost his cap, and almost beside himself now that the excitementhad left him, from lack of sleep, pain, and weariness. Moreover, as thesun rose, it grew fearfully hot upon that plain, and its fierce rays,striking full upon his head, seemed to stupefy him, so that at last theywere obliged to halt and weave a kind of hat out of corn and grasses,which gave him so strange an appearance that some Moors, whom they metgoing to their toil, thought that he must be a madman, and ran away.

  Still they crawled forward, refreshing themselves with water wheneverthey could find any in the irrigation ditches that these people used fortheir crops, but covering little more than a mile an hour. Towards noonthe heat grew so dreadful that they were obliged to lie down to restunder the shade of some palm-like trees, and here, absolutely outworn,they sank into a kind of sleep.

  They were awakened by a sound of voices, and staggered to their feet,drawing their swords, for they thought that the thieves from the inn hadovertaken them. Instead of these ruffianly murderers, however, they sawbefore them a body of eight Moors, beautifully mounted upon whitehorses, and clad in turbans and flowing robes, the like of which Peterhad never yet beheld, who sat there regarding them gravely with theirquiet eyes, and, as it seemed, not without pity.

  "Put up your swords, Senors," said the leader of these Moors inexcellent Spanish--indeed, he seemed to be a Spaniard dressed in Easterngarments--"for we are many and fresh; and you are but two and wounded."

  They obeyed, who could do nothing else.

  "Now tell us, though there is little need to ask," went on the captain,"you are those men of England who boarded the _San Antonio_ and escapedwhen she was sinking, are you not?"

  Castell nodded, then answered:

  "We boarded her to seek----"

  "Never mind what you sought," the captain answered; "the names ofexalted ladies should not be mentioned before strange men. But you havebeen in trouble again since then, at the inn yonder, where this tallsenor bore himself very bravely. Oh! we have heard all the story, andgive him honour who can wield a sword so well in the dark."

  "We thank you," said Castell, "but what is your business with us?"

  "Senor, we are sent by our master, his Excellency, the high Lord andMarquis of Morella, to find you and bring you to be his guestsat Granada."

  "So the priest has told. I thought as much," muttered Peter.

  "We pray you to come without trouble, as we do not wish to do anyviolence to such gallant men," went on the captain. "Be pleased to mounttwo of these horses, and ride with us."

  "I am a merchant, with friends of my own at Granada," answered Castell."Cannot we go to them, who do not seek the hospitality of the marquis?"

  "Senor, our orders are otherwise, and here the word of our master, themarquis, is a law that may not be broken."

  "I thought that Boabdil was king of Granada," said Castell.

  "Without doubt he is king, Senor, and by the grace of Allah will remainso, but the marquis is allied to him in blood; also, while the trucelasts, he is a representative of their Majesties of Spain in our city,"and, at a sign, two of the Moors dismounted and led forward theirhorses, holding the stirrups, and offering to help them to the saddle.

  "There is nothing for it," said Peter; "we must go." So, awkwardlyenough, for they were very stiff, they climbed on to the beasts and rodeaway with their captors.

  The sun was sinking now, for they had slept long, and by the time theyreached the gates of Granada the muezzins were calling to the sunsetprayer from the minarets of the mosques.

  It was but a very dim and confused idea that Peter gathered of the greatcity of the Moors, as, surrounded by their white-robed escort, he rodehe knew not whither. Narrow winding streets, white houses, shutteredwindows, crowds of courteous, somewhat silent people, all men, and allclad in those same strange, flowing dresses, who looked at themcuriously, and murmured words which afterwards he came to learn meant"Christian prisoners," or sometimes "Christian dogs"; fretted andpointed arches, and a vast fairy-like building set upon a hill. He wasdazed with pain and fatigue as, a long-legged, blood-stained figure,crowned with his quaint hat of grasses, he rode through that wondrousand imperial place.

  Yet no man laughed at him, absurd as he must have seemed; but perhapsthis was because under the grotesqueness of his appearance theyrecognised something of his quality. Or they might have heard rumours ofhis sword-play at the inn and on the ship. At any rate, their attitudewas that of courteous dislike of the Christian, mingled with respect forthe brave man in misfortune.

  At length, after mounting a long rise, they came to a palace on a mount,facing the vast, red-walled fortress which seemed to dominate the place,which he afterwards knew as the Alhambra, but separated from it by avalley. This palace was a very great building, set on three sides of asquare, and surrounded by gardens, wherein tall cypress-trees pointed tothe tender sky. They rode through the gardens and sundry gateways tillthey came to a courtyard where servants, with torches in their hands,ran out to meet them. Somebody helped him off his horse, somebodysupported him up a flight of marble steps, beneath which a fountainsplashed, into a great, cool room with an ornamented roof. Then Peterremembered no more.

  * * * * *

  A time went by, a long, long time--in fact it was nearly a month--beforePeter really opened his eyes to the world again. Not that he had beeninsensible for all this while--that is, quite--for at intervals he hadbecome aware of that large, cool room, and of people talking abouthim--especially of a dark-eyed, light-footed, and pretty woman with awhite wimple round her face, who appeared to be in charge of him.Occasionally he thought that this must be Margaret, and yet knew that itcould not, for she was different. Also, he remembered that once or twicehe had seemed to see the haughty, handsome face of Morella bending overhim, as though he watched curiously to learn whether he would live ornot, and then had striven to rise to fight him, and been pressed back bythe soft, white hands of the woman that yet were so terribly strong.

  Now, when he awoke at last, it was to see her sitting there with a rayof sunlight from some upper window falling on her face, sitting with herchin resting on her hand and her elbow on her knee, and contemplatinghim with a pretty, puzzled look. She made a sweet picture thus, hethought. Then he spoke to her in his slow Spanish, for somehow he knewthat she would not understand his own tongue.

  "You are not Margaret," he said.

  At once the dream went out of the woman's soft eyes; she becameintensely interested, and, rising, advanced towards him, a very graciousfigure, who seemed to sway as she walked.

  "No, no," she said, bending over him and touching his forehead with hertaper fingers; "my name is Inez. You wander still, Senor."

  "Inez what?" he asked.

  "Inez only," she answered, "Inez, a woman of Granada, the rest is lost.Inez, the nurse of sick men, Senor."

  "Where then is Margaret--the English Margaret?"

  A veil of secrecy seemed to fall over the woman's face, and her voicechanged as she answered, no longer ringing true, or so it struck hissenses made quick and subtle by the fires of fever:

  "I know no English Margaret. Do you then love her--this EnglishMargaret?"

  "Aye," he answered, "she was stolen from me; I have fo
llowed her fromfar, and suffered much. Is she dead or living?"

  "I have told you, Senor, I know nothing, although"--and again the voicebecame natural--"it is true that I thought you loved somebody from yourtalk in your illness."

  Peter pondered a while, then he began to remember, and asked again:

  "Where is Castell?"

  "Castell? Was he your companion, the man with a hurt arm who looked likea Jew? I do not know where he is. In another part of the city, perhaps.I think that he was sent to his friends. Question me not of suchmatters, who am but your sick-nurse. You have been very ill, Senor.Look!" And she handed him a little mirror made of polished silver, then,seeing that he was too weak to take it, held it before him.

  Peter saw his face, and groaned, for, except the red scar upon hischeek, it was ivory white and wasted to nothing.

  "I am glad Margaret did not see me like this," he said, with an attemptat a smile, "bearded too, and what a beard! Lady, how could you havenursed one so hideous?"

  "I have not found you hideous," she answered softly; "besides, that ismy trade. But you must not talk, you must rest. Drink this, and rest,"and she gave him soup in a silver bowl, which he swallowed readilyenough, and went to sleep again.

  Some days afterwards, when Peter was well on the road to convalescence,his beautiful nurse came and sat by him, a look of pity in her tender,Eastern eyes.

  "What is it now, Inez?" he asked, noting her changed face.

  "Senor Pedro, you spoke to me a while ago, when you woke up from yourlong sleep, of a certain Margaret, did you not? Well, I have beeninquiring of this Dona Margaret, and have no good news to tell of her."

  Peter set his teeth, and said:

  "Go on, tell me the worst."

  "This Margaret was travelling with the Marquis of Morella, was shenot?"

  "She had been stolen by him," answered Peter.

  "Alas! it may be so; but here in Spain, and especially here in Granada,that will scarcely screen the name of one who has been known to travelwith the Marquis of Morella."

  "So much the worse for the Marquis of Morella when I meet him again,"answered Peter sternly. "What is your story, Nurse Inez?"

  She looked with interest at his grim, thin face, but, as it seemed tohim, with no displeasure.

  "A sad one. As I have told you, a sad one. It seems that the other daythis senora was found dead at the foot of the tallest tower of themarquis's palace, though whether she fell from it, or was thrown fromit, none know."

  Peter gasped, and was silent for a while; then asked:

  "Did you see her dead?"

  "No, Senor; others saw her."

  "And told you to tell me? Nurse Inez, I do not believe your tale. If theDona Margaret, my betrothed, were dead I should know it; but my hearttells me that she is alive."

  "You have great faith, Senor," said the woman, with a note of admirationin her voice which she could not suppress, but, as he observed, withoutcontradicting him.

  "I have faith," he answered. "Nothing else is left; but so far it hasbeen a good crutch."

  Peter made no further allusion to the subject, only presently he asked:

  "Tell me, where am I?"

  "In a prison, Senor."

  "Oh! a prison, with a beautiful woman for jailer, and other beautifulwomen"--and he pointed to a fair creature who had brought something intothe room--"as servants. A very fine prison also," and he looked abouthim at the marbles and arches and lovely carving.

  "There are men without the gate, not women," she replied, smiling.

  "I daresay; captives can be tied with ropes of silk, can they not? Well,whose is this prison?"

  She shook her head.

  "I do not know, Senor. The Moorish king's perhaps--you yourself havesaid that I am only the jailer."

  "Then who pays you?"

  "Perhaps I am not paid, Senor; perhaps I work for love," and she glancedat him swiftly, "or hate," and her face changed.

  "Not hate of me, I think," said Peter.

  "No, Senor, not hate of you. Why should I hate you who have been sohelpless and so courteous to me?" and she bent the knee to him a little.

  "Why indeed? especially as I am also grateful to you who have nursed meback to life. But then, why hide the truth from a helpless man?"

  Inez glanced about her; the room was empty now. She bent over him andwhispered:

  "Have you never been forced to hide the truth? No, I read it in yourface, and you are not a woman--an erring woman."

  They looked into each other's eyes a while, then Peter asked: "Is theDona Margaret really dead?"

  "I do not know," she answered; "I was told so." And as though she fearedlest she should betray herself, Inez turned and left him quickly.

  The days went by, and through the slow degrees of convalescence Petergrew strong again. But they brought him no added knowledge. He did notknow where he dwelt or why he was there. All he knew was that he lived aprisoner in a sumptuous palace, or as he suspected, for of this he couldnot be sure, since the arched windows of one side of the building werewalled up, in the wing of a palace. Nobody came near to him except thefair Inez, and a Moor who either was deaf or could understand nothingthat he said to him in Spanish. There were other women about, it istrue, very pretty women all of them, who acted as servants, but none ofthese were allowed to approach him; he only saw them at a distance.

  Therefore Inez was his sole companion, and with her he grew veryintimate, to a certain extent, but no further. On the occasion that hasbeen described she had lifted a corner of her veil which hid her trueself, but a long while passed before she enlarged her confidence. Theveil was kept down very close indeed. Day by day he questioned her, andday by day, without the slightest show of irritation, or even annoyance,she parried his questions. They knew perfectly well that they werematching their wits against each other; but as yet Inez had the best ofthe game, which, indeed, she seemed to enjoy. He would talk to her alsoof all sorts of things--the state of Spain, the Moorish court, thedanger that threatened Granada, whereof the great siege now drew near,and so forth--and of these matters she would discourse mostintelligently, with the result that he learned much of the state ofpolitics in Castile and Granada, and greatly improved his knowledge ofthe Spanish tongue.

  But when of a sudden, as he did again and again, he sprang some questionon her about Morella, or Margaret, or John Castell, that same subtlechange would come over her face, and the same silence would sealher lips.

  "Senor," she said to him one day with a laugh, "you ask me of secretswhich I might reveal to you--perhaps--if you were my husband or my love,but which you cannot expect a nurse, whose life hangs on it, to answer.Not that I wish you to become my husband or my lover," she added, with alittle nervous laugh.

  Peter looked at her with his grave eyes.

  "I know that you do not wish that," he said, "for how could I attractone so gay and beautiful as you are?"

  "You seem to attract the English Margaret," she replied quickly in anettled voice.

  "To have attracted, you mean, as you tell me that she is dead," heanswered; and, seeing her mistake, Inez bit her lip. "But," he went on,"I was going to add, though it may have no value for you, that you haveattracted me as your true friend."

  "Friend!" she said, opening her large eyes, "what talk is this? Can thewoman Inez find a friend in a man who is under sixty?"

  "It would appear so," he answered. And again with that graceful littlecurtsey of hers she went away, leaving him very puzzled. Two dayslater she appeared in his room, evidently much disturbed.

  "I thought that you had left me altogether, and I am glad to see you,for I tire of that deaf Moor and of this fine room. I want fresh air."

  "I know it," she answered; "so I have come to take you to walk in agarden."

  He leapt for joy at her words, and snatching at his sword, which hadbeen left to him, buckled it on.

  "You will not need that," she said.

  "I thought that I should not need it in yonder inn, but I did," hean
swered. Whereat she laughed, then turned, put her hand upon hisshoulder and spoke to him earnestly.

  "See, friend," she whispered, "you want to walk in the fresh air--do younot?--and to learn certain things--and I wish to tell you them. But Idare not do it here, where we may at any moment be surrounded by spies,for these walls have ears indeed. Well, when we walk in that garden,would it be too great a penance for you to put your arm about mywaist--you who still need support?"

  "No penance at all, I assure you," answered Peter with something like asmile. For after all he was a man, and young; while the waist of Inezwas as pretty as all the rest of her. "But," he added, "it might bemisunderstood."

  "Quite so, I wish it to be misunderstood: not by me, who know that youcare nothing for me and would as soon place your arm round thatmarble column."

  Peter opened his lips to speak, but she stopped him at once.

  "Oh! do not waste falsehoods on me, in which of a truth you have noart," she said with evident irritation. "Why, if you had the money, youwould offer to pay me for my nursing, and who knows, I might take it!Understand, you must either do this, seeming to play the lover to me, orwe cannot walk together in that garden."

  Peter hesitated a little, guessing a plot, while she bent forward tillher lips almost touched his ear and said in a still lower voice:

  "And I cannot tell you how, perhaps--I say perhaps--you may come to seethe remains of the Dona Margaret, and certain other matters. Ah!" sheadded after a pause, with a little bitter laugh, "now you will kiss mefrom one end of the garden to the other, will you not? Foolish man!Doubt no more; take your chance, it may be the last."

  "Of what? Kissing you? Or the other things?"

  "That you will find out," she said, with a shrug of her shoulders."Come!"

  Then, while he followed dubiously, she led him down the length of thegreat room to a door with a spy-hole in the top of it, that was set in aMoorish archway at the corner.

  This door she opened, and there beyond it, a drawn scimitar in his hand,stood a tall Moor on guard. Inez spoke a word to him, whereon he salutedwith his scimitar and let them pass across the landing to a turret stairthat lay beyond, which they descended. At its foot was another door,whereon she knocked four times. Bolts shot back, keys turned, and it wasopened by a black porter, beyond whom stood a second Moor, also withdrawn sword. They passed him as they had passed the first, turned down alittle passage to the right, ending in some steps, and came to a thirddoor, in front of which she halted.

  "Now," she said, "nerve yourself for the trial."

  "What trial?" he asked, supporting himself against the wall, for hefound his legs still weak.

  "This," she answered, pointing to her waist, "and these," and shetouched her rich, red lips with her taper finger-points. "Would youlike to practise a little, my innocent English knight, before we go out?You look as though you might seem awkward and unconvincing."

  "I think," answered Peter drily, for the humour of the situation movedhim, "that such practice is somewhat dangerous for me. It might annoyyou before I had done. I will postpone my happiness until we are inthe garden."

  "I thought so," she answered; "but look now, you must play the part, orI shall suffer, who am bearing much for you."

  "I think that I may suffer also," he murmured, but not so low that shedid not catch his words.

  "No, friend Pedro," she said, turning on him, "it is the woman whosuffers in this kind of farce. She pays; the man rides away to playanother," and without more ado she opened the door, which proved to beunlocked and unguarded.

  Beyond the foot of some steps lay a most lovely garden. Great, taperingcypresses grew about it, with many orange-trees and flowering shrubsthat filled the soft, southern air with odours. Also there were marblefountains into which water splashed from the mouths of carven lions, andhere and there arbours with stone seats, whereon were laid soft cushionsof many colours. It was a veritable place of Eastern delight anddreams, such as Peter had never known before he looked upon it on thatlanguorous eve--he who had not seen the sky or flowers for so many wearyweeks of sickness. It was secluded also, being surrounded by a highwall, but at one place the tall, windowless tower of some other buildingof red stone soared up between and beyond two lofty cypress-trees.

  "This is the harem garden," Inez whispered, "where many a paintedfavourite has flitted for a few happy, summer hours, till winter cameand the butterfly was broken," and, as she spoke, she dropped her veilover her face and began to descend the stairs.