Captain from Castile

by Samuel Shellabarger; Internet Archive

  "Your Majesty prejudges the case," put in Gattinara.

  "There's no prejudging about it. Do our port officers not witness that this man dug up a great weight of gold in their presence and bore it away despite them, claiming it belonged to him? What more do you want?"

  "The simple formality, sire, of allowing Captain de Vargas to speak in his own defense."

  "Well then, speak up, sirrah Captain."

  "Your Majesty, I told the truth. The gold was mine."

  "Eh hien, voila!" Charles growled. "You have it from his own lips."

  "As to Your Majesty's gold, in the amount of four hundred thousand pesos," de Vargas continued, "it is where I left it on landing. It awaits Your Majesty's orders."

  A different note sounded in the Emperor's voice. "Four hundred thousand pesos! Where?"

  "At the friary of La Rabida. In the charge of Fray Tomas, Father Superior."

  Pedro hoped for an effect and not in vain. De Silva's smile was gone.

  "Four hundred thousand in gold?" Charles repeated.

  An abrupt laugh cut off Pedro's answer. "Your Majesty," de Silva remarked, "may I venture a humble caution? I hope this gold exists; but as yet it exists only on the word of a man whose effrontery Your Majesty himself has pointed out. How long will it take to learn from La Rabida that de Vargas left no gold there? At least two weeks. And in that time, from my experience with this gentleman, much can happen."

  Pedro smiled. "Very true, sir. Only it will not take two weeks to learn the truth from La Rabida. It will take no more than two minutes."

  "How so?" demanded Charles.

  "I believe my father, Don Francisco, is at court today. He has a document from La Rabida touching the matter in hand, also a letter on the same point from General Cortes addressed to Your Majesty. From my experience with Seiior de Silva, I would not venture to keep such papers on my own person lest they should be mislaid."

  At another time, the Emperor might have reproved this attack on a man he favored, but at the moment he was much too interested in the document from La Rabida.

  "Call Don Francisco," he ordered.

  The old knight entered with the dignified carriage that he maintained always. He did not look unduly impressed—indeed, he would have walked down a church aisle toward the high altar more humbly than he now approached Charles of Austria—but at the same time his bearing showed reverence.

  The young Emperor, embarrassed that he had slighted him in the audience room, now impulsively rose.

  "Welcome at court, Don Francisco. I have long wanted to see the good knight and servant of my grandfather, the friend of Gonsalvo de Cordoba. I regret that you come on so serious an occasion, but I would have you know that, whatever the charges against your son, they reflect nothing against you."

  The other bowed over the outstretched hand. "If I do not kneel, sire, it is because of Ravenna. As for my son, I wish I had no more serious crimes than his on my own soul. But, however that may be, we stand together in all things, even in Your Majesty's displeasure."

  Then, drawing out the papers he had received, he presented them.

  "Have I permission to take my leave?"

  "Nay, stay here, sir. We may have need of you."

  Charles had already opened Fray Tomas's receipt and was glancing through it.

  ''Look, Gattinara, the seal of the friary. Thirty-five chests, said to contain gold in the weight of four hundred thousand pesos. Let's see what the man Cortes adds to this."

  And he tore open the letter from Coyoacan, his eyes racing along the closely written pages.

  "Here's news. The city with the long name—fallen . . . The entire country in Spanish hands ... A continent . . . (The fellow writes well, my lord Chancellor. I was struck by his other letter. The Caesar touch.) . . . Yes, thirty-five hundredweight cases of gold bars to be left at La Rabida . . . Equaling the royal fifth of a certain treasure discovered by Captain Pedro de Vargas plus three additional tenths donated in lovang devotion by the Colony of Villa Rica. Therefore, a half . . . Said Captain de Vargas retaining two fifths. . . . Ma foi, you're a rich man, sir . . . Well, the letter jumps with Fray Tomas's receipt. But why, in God's name, de Vargas, did you not notify us of this? Why was it necessary to put you under arrest in order to secure information of such importance? Is it not treasonable negligence?"

  "No, sire. I had no sooner reached Seville when a messenger was dispatched by His Grace of Medina Sidonia. The message stated that I brought important news and a contribution from Mexico; that I was proceeding to Valladolid via Jaen to wait upon Your Majesty who had but then landed at Santander. The Duke will vouch for this."

  "What messenger? None arrived."

  For the first time, Pedro stared full at de Silva, who stood pinching his chin, his face whiter than usual, his eyes elusive and yet intent.

  "I believe he met with foul play. But being myself a criminal in Your Majesty's view, no charge of mine would carry weight."

  This was a question as well as a statement. Charles glanced irresolutely at Gattinara, who offered no advice. Perhaps the Chancellor found a dry amusement in watching his young master extricate himself from a situation which a little heed would have prevented.

  "Why, as to that," the Emperor stumbled, "clearly certain charges against you cannot be maintained. They were due to a mistake. You bring great news and a welcome contribution from New Spain. It may be we have acted overhastily—How now, Seiior de Silva?"

  Pedro saw a pair of handsomely brocaded shoulders meekly inclined and a sleek head bowed low, as de Silva kneeled in front of the Emperor.

  "Sire, I crave punishment for myself. The fault was mine."

  "No, sir. You reported the sworn evidence of the officers at the port of Palos and the testimony of seamen in de Vargas's ship. You could not do less. The mistake is not yours."

  "But, sire, the Bishop of Burgos and I did more. We charged this man with rebellion against Your Majesty in New Spain, with blasphemous treason, with unspeakable cruelties, with disgracing the Spanish name, with conspiracy to murder a priest of God. As Your Majesty puts it, we acted overhastily. We wish now to withdraw those charges."

  LXXXU

  A SILENCE OF astonishment fell. Pedro, bewildered, could think of nothing but a big, black, devious snake. Bishop Fonseca looked as amazed as did the Emperor and Gattinara.

  After a pause, Charles exclaimed, "Indeed! You withdraw the charges? Why?"

  Still kneeling, de Silva lifted his head. "We. would not embarrass Your Majesty. Far better that we should incur your imperial anger and that the voice of justice should be silenced than that the Majesty of Spain should be tempted to make good the boast of de Vargas and others like him that a round sum of gold, properly placed, would cover any crime they chose to commit. Therefore, we withdraw our charge. This man and his mates are not rebels; they kept faith with the Governor of Cuba; they distinguished themselves by uprightness, loyalty, and mercy; they engaged in no extortions, plots, or assassinations. They are noble cavaliers, who should be cherished and rewarded."

  The Emperor fingered his beard and thrust his lower jaw out further than usual.

  "I like plain speaking, Sefior de Silva."

  "Your Majesty, that is the trouble. The Bishop of Burgos and I are plain, direct men. We saw only a pack of villains and law-breakers, guilty of every crime. We did not see, as we ought, that any wickedness is counterbalanced by success."

  It was the right note. Then, as always, Charles of Austria prided himself on his justice and fair dealing. And it did not help matters at that point when Gattinara observed thoughtfully: —

  "That, Sefior de Silva, is one of the truest remarks I have heard you make."

  "How so?" rapped Charles. "My lord Chancellor, it is unworthy of you."

  "It is the verdict of history, sire."

  "Then let us write a new page of history. It shall not be said of a Holy Roman Emperor that he accepts a bribe—"

  "Alas! Does Your Majesty mean that he rejects th
is gold?"

  "No." Charles blinked slightly. "No, but am I wrong in believing that the gold belongs to me whether these men are rebels or not?"

  "Of course it does," rumbled Bishop Fonseca. "If a thief restores part, a small part, of his ill-gotten booty, does it mean that he has absolved himself of the theft?"

  The Emperor nodded. "That's the right answer, Monseigneur di Gattinara."

  "Sire," returned the Chancellor, "we were speaking of rebels, not thieves. If Cortes were loyal, what would you have him do that he has not done? He presents Your Majesty with a great country, conquered by a handful of men against millions; he sends a king's ransom in tribute. These are not the acts of a rebel."

  "Precisely," injected de Silva, who had risen and stepped back again next to the Bishop. He smiled coolly, his dark, arrogant eyes on Gattinara. "Precisely. As I said, Cortes is not a rebel. He is a successful man. Whether he is called viceroy or king of New Spain hardly matters. He rules there and scorns any other authority. Witness Narvaez and the loyal gentlemen he has maimed or murdered. He presents His Majesty with a great country and at the same time keeps it for himself. When he could have sent forty million, he sends four hundred thousand as a sop to avoid trouble. These are the ways of success."

  Charles fingered his beard again. "Forty million?" He was still young enough to believe in any figure from the New World.

  "Aye," returned de Silva. "Cortes has had the pillage of a hundred cities. On the night of the retreat, I saw him toss away hundreds of thousands in gold to the common soldiers. I do not recall that he was able to save a blanca for Your Majesty's treasury."

  "Ah, Nuestro Senor." de Vargas prayed under his breath, "is there no fire in heaven for this dog?"

  But what fire there was seemed directed against Pedro himself. The Emperor's hard blue eyes were leveled on him.

  "Look you, gentlemen," said Charles, "we have had enough of this. We do not appoint royal governors to have their authority mocked. We do not appoint ministers of our lands beyond the sea"—he glanced at Fonseca—"to have them ignored by Hernan Cortes or Pedro de Vargas. My lord Bishop, you and Seiior de Silva have preferred charges against this man. He must face them. I have directed Don Fadrique Enriquez, Admiral of Castile, to appoint judges, who now wait to begin trial."

  So, Pedro reflected, it was as his father had feared. The great news from Mexico, the offering of the gold, were not enough to clear him.

  The power of the Bishop of Burgos, entrenched for thirty years, could not be so easily defeated. He, a newcomer, a young man, was no match for such an official. And what sort of trial could he expect with this great influence against him? He could not deny that he and the rest of the company had rebelled against the Governor of Cuba. He could not deny that he was second in command at Tenochtitlan at the time of the massacre, and it would do him no good to affirm that he had protested against it. He shared the responsibility with Alvarado. As for other charges, it was his word against de Silva's, with this difference— that he was discredited and de Silva was in favor. No, he had no hope in defense; his one chance lay in attack. And now was the moment.

  "Your Majesty," he put in, trying to keep his voice steady but conscious of the crisis, "may I ask one question?"

  "We have heard enough," Charles began. "We have no time. No, my lord di Gattinara, there are other matters—"

  "Sire"—Don Francisco had stepped forward—"if I have ever rendered any sendee to Spain, if there is any memory of it, hear my son."

  Charles frowned impatiently. "Well, then. But let him be brief. What is the question?"

  "Your Majesty," Pedro went on, "does not the character of an accuser affect in some way the credence given to the charges he makes?"

  "Yes, and if you refer to the character of your accusers, I would say that it confirms their charges. Of his lordship of Burgos, I need not speak. Of Sefior de Silva, I shall point out that he is not only vouched for by the Bishop, but has served me well already in sundry matters. Does that answer you?"

  Pedro's heart beat fast. Everything depended on the next move.

  "It does; but let me speak to the point. I pass over the fact that this man has once before denounced me and that his empty charges were not only dismissed by His Holiness the Pope and by the Suprema of the Holy Office, but that Your Majesty himself took action to the same effect."

  "A theological matter," put in Charles, "concerning your venerable father as well as you."

  "And yet, sire, one false denunciation on whatever matter does not recommend the next one by the same man. ... I pass too over the fact that this person"—Pedro found it difficult to use de Silva's name— "joined our company in the ranks of Panfilo de Narvaez and therefore plainly may be considered a prejudiced witness. Nor do I press the point that he sneaked off to Cuba after our defeat when he thought the enterprise was doomed—though I'll wager a thousand pesos that he

  would give his soul now to have hung on until victory. I shall not speak of his betrayal of me and of two of my comrades on the night of the retreat, which is still more discreditable, for I have only my naked word to prove it."

  "Come!" snapped the Emperor. "We want no oration."

  "It will be no oration, Your Majesty," Pedro went on. "Therefore, at this time I mention only the disappearance of the messenger frfem Seville, though I have evidence that a hired bully of Valladolid, one named Tito el Fiero, killed him in this man's pay."

  "Sire!" de Silva burst out furiously, though with a new tremor in his voice. "Am I to stand here—"

  "Patience," Charles smiled. "You'll have your turn later. . . . Well, de Vargas, have you done with your passings over and not mention-ings:

  "Aye, Your Majesty." Pedro felt terribly alone, as he prepared to make the decisive cast. No turning back after this; it was all or nothing, success or ruin. "Aye, Your Majesty, for there is a last matter of greater importance. I charge this man with being in the pay of the corsairs, a spy of Barbarossa's, a renegade and traitor to Your Majesty and Spain."

  "By God—"

  De Silva's rapier was out, and at the same moment he flung himself at Pedro, but not so quickly that he did not find himself blocked by Gattinara.

  The Emperor had sprung up. "You, sir! Do you forget where you are! Do you draw a sword in our presence! Except that I admit the provocation was very great, I would hand you over to the guards."

  Controlling himself, de Silva returned the blade to its sheath. He was dead white, and his hands were trembling.

  "Flesh and blood cannot stand some things."

  Charles pointed his outstretched hand at Pedro. "If you fail to make good that charge, God have mercy on you!"

  De Silva put in, "Your Majesty, do not let him soil your ears—"

  "I shall make the charge good," said Pedro, giving rein to his luck with an unspoken prayer. "First, let me ask this man whether some years ago at Malaga he did not act as an informer for the corsairs and receive large sums for his services. And I should add that I have a witness in Jaen to prove it."

  De Silva had the look of one drowning. "Sire, the keeper of a disorderly tavern, Sancho Lopez—"

  "At least, he seems to know the witness," remarked Gattinara.

  "Next," continued Pedro, "I would have him narrowly questioned by some able seaman on his escape from Tunis. He claims to be a soldier, not a sailor. How then was he able, after slaying the crew, to bring a felucca single-handed to Malaga? He knows nothing of the sea. Let him explain how he laid his course, handled the sails. He says, I hear, that the ship was wrecked not far from Malaga. Is there no wreckage? Were there no witnesses? Has he been cross-examined on the said miraculous escape?"

  "As to that," de Silva struggled, "have no fear. I'll explain—" "Lastly," Pedro concluded, taking the final chance, "it is to be asked where this bankrupt villain draws his funds for the state he keeps at Valladolid—"

  De Silva gave a harsh laugh. "Is this not childish—" "And in that connection," Pedro added, "I would call as witness the turn
key of the prison whom Diego de Silva paid to murder me last night. He will give evidence not only about that. He will show that this man frequents the house of a so-called Malaga merchant, a Morisco, who should be put to the question, one Pablo Stuniga."

  Whatever de Silva's faults, lack of decision was not one of them. Before the guards at the door could cross their halberds, he had passed them. His voice sounded in the anteroom, as if he were in pursuit of someone. A roar of confusion rose on the outer stairs. A moment later came the clatter of a horse's hoofs from the courtyard.

  After orders for pursuit had been given and the excitement was past, the Emperor reseated himself. He turned first to Bishop Fonseca.

  "You vouched for this man. What have you to say?"

  But for once the Bishop of Burgos had lost his tongue. "Nothing, Your Majesty," he stumbled. "I—I renounce him."

  Gattinara struggled with a smile behind his beard. "And what becomes of the charges against Captain de Vargas," he queried, "when the sole witness to most of them has—shall we term it—withdrawn?"

  "Cre dieu!" Charles brought down his fist on the arm of his chair. "You should have advised me in this, my lord Chancellor."

  "Sire, may I submit in all humility that management of perplexed cases is learned not by advice but by experience? Your Majesty trusted de Silva. The rule for princes is to trust no one very far."

  Charles nodded. "I believe I shall profit by the lesson. . . . Remove the irons from Captain de Vargas. It may be a case of pot and kettle; but, with the pot gone, the kettle is no longer called black. Well, sir, Charles of Austria makes his apologies."

  When the fetters had been taken off, Pedro advanced and, kneeling, raised the Emperor's hand to his Hps.

  "May I ask a boon, Your Majesty?"

  "Two, if you like."

  "That the trial proceed. Not mine alone, but that of General Cortes and all our company." Suddenly Pedro found himself quoting. "As the General says, we are not saints, Your Majesty. Nor are we devils. We were desperate men, fighting a desperate fight, and in the heat of it we made mistakes. I beg Your Majesty to judge us by our accomplishment. We have given to Spain an empire which awaits only Your Majesty's orders. The boon I ask is the appointment of an impartial council not chosen by the Bishop of Burgos—men who have no interest but justice. Let them determine the merits of Velasquez and of our General. I pledge my honor, sire, that loyally we shall accept the verdict."