The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

by Deborah Alcock

  VIII.

  The Muleteer

  "Are ye resigned that they be spent In such world's help? The spirits bent Their awful brows, and said, 'Content!'

  "Content! It sounded like Amen Said by a choir of mourning men; An affirmation full of pain

  "And patience,--ay, of glorying. And adoration, as a king Might seal an oath for governing."--E. B. Browning

  When Carlos stood once more face to face with his sorrow--as he did assoon as he had closed the door--he found that it had somewhat changedits aspect. A trouble often does this when some interruption from theouter world makes us part company with it for a little while. We findon our return that it has developed quite a new phase, and seldom a morehopeful one.

  It now entered the mind of Carlos, for the first time, that he had beenacting very basely towards his brother. Not only had he planned andintended a treason, but by endeavouring to engage the affections of DonaBeatriz, he had actually committed one. Heaven grant it might not proveirreparable! Though the time that had passed since his better selfgained the victory was only measured by hours, it represented to him amuch longer period. Already it enabled him to look upon what had gonebefore from the vantage-ground that some degree of distance gives. Henow beheld in true, perhaps even in exaggerated colours, the meannessand the treachery of his conduct. He, who prided himself upon thenobility of his nature matching that of his birth--he, Don CarlosAlvarez de Santillanos y Menaya, the gentleman of stainless manners, ofreputation untarnished by a single blot--he, who had never yet beenashamed of anything,--in his solitude he blushed and covered his face inshame, as the villany he had planned rose up before his mind. It wouldhave broken his heart to be scorned by any man; and was it not worse athousand-fold to be thus scorned by himself! He thought even more ofthe meanness of his plan than of its treachery. Of its sin he did notthink at all. Sin was a theological term which he had been wont tohandle in the schools, and to toss to and fro with the other materialsupon which he showed off his dialectic skill; but it no more occurred tohim to take it out of the scholastic world and to bring it into that inwhich he really lived and acted, than it did to talk Latin to Diego, orsoftly to whisper quotations from Thomas Aquinas into the ear of DonaBeatriz between the pauses of the dance.

  Scarcely any consideration, however, could have made him more miserablethan he was. Past and future--all alike seemed dreary. Not a happymemory, not a cheering anticipation could he find to comfort him. Hewas as one who goes forth to face the driving storm of a wintry night:not strong in hope and courage--a warm hearth behind him, and before himthe pleasant starry glimmer that tells of another soon to bereached--but chilled, weary, forlorn, the wind whistling through thingarments, and nothing to meet his eye but the bare, bleak, shelterlessmoor stretching far out into the distance.

  He sat long, too crushed in heart even to finish his slight, unimportanttask. Sometimes he drew towards him the sheet of figures, and for amoment or two tried to fix his attention upon it; but soon he would pushit away again, or make aimless dots and circles on its margin. Whilethus engaged, he heard a cheery and not unmelodious voice chanting afragment of song in some foreign tongue. Listening more attentively, hebelieved the words were French, and supposed the singer must be hishumble guest, the muleteer, on his way to the stable to take a last lookat the beloved companions of his toils before he lay down to rest. Theman had probably exercised his vocation at some former period in thepasses of the Pyrenees, and had thus acquired some knowledge of French.

  Half an hour's talk with any one seemed to Carlos at that moment a mostdesirable diversion from the gloom of his own thoughts. He mightconverse with this stranger when he dared not summon to his presenceDiego or Dolores, because they knew and loved him well enough todiscover in two minutes that something was seriously wrong with him. Hewaited until he heard the voice once more close beneath his window; thensoftly opening it, he called the muleteer. Juliano responded with readyalertness; and Carlos, going round to the door, admitted him, and ledhim into his sanctum.

  "I believe," he said, "that was a French song I heard you sing. Youhave been in France, then?"

  "Ay, senor; I have crossed the Pyrenees more than once. I have also beenin Switzerland."

  "You must, then, have visited many places worthy of note; and not withyour eyes shut, I think. I wish you would tell me, for pastime, thestory of your travels."

  "Willingly, senor," said the muleteer, who, though perfectly respectful,had an ease and independence of manner that made Carlos suspect it wasnot the first time he had conversed with his superiors. "Where shall Ibegin?"

  "Have you ever crossed the Santillanos, or visited the Asturias?"

  "No, senor. A man cannot be everywhere; 'he that rings the bells doesnot walk in the procession.' I am only master of the route from Lyonshere; knowing a little also, as I have said, of Switzerland."

  "Tell me first of Lyons, then. And be seated, my friend."

  The muleteer sat down, and began his story, telling of the places he hadseen with an intelligence that more and more engaged the attention ofCarlos, who failed not to draw out his information by many pertinentquestions. As they conversed, each observed the other with graduallyincreasing interest. Carlos admired the muleteer's courage and energy inthe prosecution of his calling, and enjoyed his quaint and shrewdobservations. Moreover, he was struck by certain indications of adegree of education and even of refinement not usual in his class.Especially he noticed the small, finely-formed hand, which was sometimesin the warmth of conversation laid on the table, and which looked as ifit had been accustomed to wield some implement far more delicate than ariding-whip. Another thing he took note of. Though Juliano's languageabounded in proverbs, in provincialisms, in quaint and racy expressions,not a single oath escaped his lips. "I never saw an arriero before,"thought Carlos, "who could get through two sentences without half adozen of them."

  Juliano, on the other hand, was observing his host, and with a farshrewder and deeper insight than Carlos could have imagined. Duringsupper he had gathered from the servants that their young master waskind-hearted, gentle, easy-tempered, and had never injured any one inhis life; and knowing all this, he was touched with genuine sympathy forthe young noble, whose haggard face and sorrowful looks told but tooplainly that some great grief was pressing on his heart.

  "Your Excellency must be weary of my stories," he said at length. "Itis time I left you to your repose."

  And so indeed it was, for the hour was late.

  "Ere you go," said Carlos kindly, "you shall drink a cup of wine withme."

  He had no wine at hand but the costly beverage Dolores had produced forhis own especial use. Wondering a little what Juliano would think ofsuch a luxurious beverage, he sought a second cup, for the proudCastilian gentleman was too "finely courteous" not to drink with hisguest, although that guest was only a muleteer.

  Juliano, evidently a temperate man, remonstrated: "But I have alreadytasted your Excellency's hospitality."

  "That should not hinder your drinking to my good health," said Carlos,producing a small hunting-cup, forgotten until now, from the pocket ofhis doublet.

  Then filling the larger cup, he handed it to Juliano. It was a verylittle thing, a trifling act of kindness. But to the last hour of hislife, Carlos Alvarez thanked God that he had put it into his heart tooffer that cup of wine.

  The muleteer raised it to his lips, saying earnestly, "God grant youhealth and happiness, noble senor."

  Carlos drank also, glad to relieve a painful feeling of exhaustion. Ashe set down the cup, a sudden impulse prompted him to say, with a bittersmile, "Happiness is not likely to come my way at present."

  "Nay, senor, and wherefore not? With your good leave be it spoken, youare young, noble, amiable, with much learning and excellent parts, asthey tell me."

  "All these things may not prevent a man being very miserable," saidCa
rlos frankly.

  "God comfort you, senor."

  "Thanks for the good wish," said Carlos, rather lightly, and consciousof having already said too much. "All men have their troubles, Isuppose, but most men contrive to live through them. So shall I, nodoubt."

  "But God can comfort you," Juliano repeated with a kind of wistfulearnestness.

  Carlos, surprised at his manner, looked at him dreamily, but with somecuriosity.

  "Senor," said Juliano, leaning forward and speaking in a low tone fullof meaning. "Let your worship excuse a plain man's plainquestion--Senor, _do you know God_?"

  Carlos started visibly. Was the man mad? Certainly not; as all hisprevious conversation bore witness. He was evidently a very clever,half-educated man, who spoke with just the simplicity andunconsciousness of an intelligent child. And now he had asked a truechild's question; one which it would exhaust a wise man's wisdom toanswer. Thoroughly perplexed, Carlos at last determined to take it inits easiest sense. He said, "Yes; I have studied theology, and taken outmy licentiate's degree at the University of Alcala."

  "If it please your worship, what may that fine word theology mean?"

  "You have said so many wise things, that I marvel you know not Scienceabout God."

  "Then, senor, your Excellency knows _about God_. But is it not anotherthing _to know God_? I know much about the Emperor Carlos, now at SanYuste; I could tell you the story of all his campaigns. But I never sawhim, still less spoke with him. And far indeed am I from knowing him tobe my friend; and so trusting him that if my mules died, or theAlguazils seized me at Cordova for bringing over something contraband,or other mishap befell me, I should go or send to him, certain that hewould help and save me."

  "I begin to understand you," said Carlos; and a suspicion crossed hismind that the muleteer was a friar in disguise. But that could scarcelybe, since his black abundant hair showed no marks of the tonsure."After the manner you speak of, only great saints know God."

  "Indeed, senor! Can that be true? For I have heard that our LordChrist"--(at the mention of the name Carlos crossed himself, a ceremonywhich the muleteer was so engrossed by his argument as to forget)--"thatour Lord Christ came into the world to make men know the Father; andthat, to all that believe on him, he truly reveals him."

  "Where did you get this strange learning?"

  "It is simple learning; and yet very blessed, senor," returned Juliano,evading the question. "For those who know God are happy. Whateversorrows they have without, within they have joy and peace."

  "You are advising me to seek peace in religion?"

  It was singular certainly that a muleteer should advise _him_; but thenthis was a very uncommon muleteer. "And so I ought," he added, "since Iam destined for the Church."

  "No, senor; not to seek peace in religion, but to seek peace from God,and in Christ who reveals him."

  "It is only the words that differ, the things are the same."

  "Again I say, with all submission to your Excellency, not so. It isChrist Jesus himself--Christ Jesus, God and man--who alone can give thepeace and happiness for which the heart aches. Are we oppressed withsin? He says, 'Thy sins are forgiven thee!' Are we hungry? He isbread. Thirsty? He is living water. Weary? He says, 'Come unto me,all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest!'"

  "Man! who or what are you? You are quoting the Holy Scriptures to me.Do you then read Latin?"

  "No, senor," said the muleteer humbly, casting his eyes down to theground.

  "_No?_"

  "No, senor; in very truth. But--"

  "Well? Go on!"

  Juliano looked up again, a steady light in his eyes. "Will you promise,on the faith of a gentleman, not to betray me?" he asked.

  "Most assuredly I will not betray you."

  "I trust you, senor. I do not believe it would be possible for _you_ tobetray one who trusted you."

  Carlos winced, and rather shrank from the muleteer's look of hearty,honest confidence.

  "Though I cannot guess your reason for such precautions," he said, "I amwilling, if you wish it, to swear secrecy upon the holy crucifix."

  "It needs not, senor; your word of honour is as much as your oath.Though I am putting my life in your hands when I tell you that I havedared to read the words of my Lord Christ in my own tongue."

  "Are you then a heretic?" Carlos exclaimed, recoiling involuntarily, asone who suddenly sees the plague spot on the forehead of a friend whosehand he has been grasping.

  "That depends upon your notion of a heretic, senor. Many a better manthan I has been branded with the name. Even the great preacher Don FrayConstantino, whom all the fine lords and ladies in Seville flock tohear, has often been called heretic by his enemies."

  "I have resided in Seville, and attended Fray Constantino's theologicallectures," said Carlos.

  "Then your worship knows there is not a better Christian in all theSpains. And yet men say that he narrowly escaped a prosecution forheresy. But enough of what men say. Let us hear what God says foronce. His words cannot lead us astray."

  "No; not the Holy Scriptures, properly expounded by learned and orthodoxdoctors. But heretics put their own construction upon the sacred text,which, moreover, they corrupt and interpolate."

  "Senor, you are a scholar; you can consult the original, and judge foryourself how far that charge is true."

  "But I do not want to read heretic writings."

  "Nor I, senor. Yet I confess that I have read the words of my Saviourin my own tongue, which some misinformed or ignorant persons callheresy; and through them, to my soul's joy, I have learned to know Himand the Father. I am bold enough to wish the same knowledge yours,senor, that the same joy may be yours also." The poor man's eyekindled, and his features, otherwise homely enough, glowed with anenthusiasm that lent them true spiritual beauty.

  Carlos was not unmoved. After a moment's pause he said, "If I couldprocure what you style God's Word in my own tongue, I do not say that Iwould refuse to read it. Should I discover any heretical mistranslationor interpolation, I could blot out the passage; or, if necessary, burnthe book."

  "I can place in your hands this very hour the New Testament of ourSaviour Christ, lately translated into Castilian by Juan Perez, alearned man, well acquainted with the Greek."

  "What! have you got it with you? In God's name bring it then; and atleast I will look at it."

  "Be it truly in God's name, senor," said Juliano, as he left the room.

  During his absence Carlos pondered upon this singular adventure.Throughout his lengthened conversation with him, he had discerned nomarks of heresy in the muleteer, except his possession of the SpanishNew Testament. And being very proud of his dialectic acuteness, hethought he should certainly have discovered such had they existed. "Hehad need to be a clever heretic that would circumvent _me_," he said,with the vanity of a young and successful scholar. Moreover, his tenmonths' attendance on the lectures of Fray Constantino had,unconsciously to himself, somewhat imbued his mind with liberal ideas.He could have read the Vulgate at Alcala if he had cared to do so (onlyhe never had); where then could be the harm of glancing, out of merecuriosity, at a Spanish translation from the same original?

  He regarded the New Testament in the light of some very dangerous,though effective, weapon of the explosive kind; likely to overwhelm withterrible destruction the careless or ignorant meddler with itsintricacies, and therefore wisely forbidden by the authorities; thoughin able and scientific hands, such as his own, it might be harmless andeven useful.

  But it was a very different matter for the poor man who brought it tohim. Was he, after all, a madman? Or was he a heretic? Or was he agreat saint or holy hermit in disguise? But whatever his spiritual perilmight or might not be, it was only too evident that he was incurringtemporal dangers of a very awful kind. And perhaps he was doing so inthe simplicity of ignorance. Carlos could not do less than warn him ofthem.

  He soon returned; and drawing a small bro
wn volume from beneath hisleathern jerkin, handed it to the young nobleman.

  "My friend," said Carlos kindly, as he took it from him, "do you knowwhat you dare by offering this to me, or even by keeping it yourself?"

  "I know it well, senor," was the calm reply; and the muleteer's dark eyemet his undauntedly.

  "You are playing a dangerous game. This time you are safe. But takecare. You may try it once too often."

  "I shall not, senor. I shall witness for my Lord just so often as hepermits. When he has no more need of me, he will call me home."

  "God help you. I fear you are throwing yourself into the fire. And forwhat?"

  "For the joy of bringing food to the perishing, water to the thirsty,light to those that sit in darkness, rest to the weary and heavy-laden.Senor, I have counted the cost, and I shall pay the price rightwillingly."

  After a moment's silence he continued: "I leave within your hands thetreasure brought at such cost. But God alone, by his Divine Spirit, canreveal to you its true worth. Senor, seek that Spirit. Nay, be notoffended. You are very noble and very learned; and it is a poor andignorant man who speaks to you. But that poor man is risking his lifefor your soul's salvation; and thus he proves, at least, how true hisdesire to see you one day at the right hand of Christ, his King andMaster. Adios, senor."

  He bowed low; and before Carlos had sufficiently recovered from hisastonishment to say a word in answer, he had left the room and closedthe door behind him.

  "Strange being!" thought Carlos; "but I shall talk with him againto-morrow." And ere he was aware, his eyelids were wet; for the courageand self-sacrifice of the poor muleteer had stirred some answering chordof emotion in his heart. Probably, in spite of all appearances to thecontrary, he was a madman; or else he was a heretical fanatic. But hewas a man willing to brave numberless sufferings (of which a death oftorture was the last and least), to bring his fellow-men something whichhe imagined would make them happy. "The Church has no more orthodox sonthan I," said Don Carlos Alvarez; "but I shall read his book for allthat."

  Then, the hour being late, he retired to rest, and slept soundly.

  He did not rise exactly with the sun, and when he came forth from hischamber breakfast was already in preparation.

  "Where is the muleteer who was here last night?" he asked Dolores.

  "He was up and away at sunrise," she answered. "Fortunately, it is notmy custom to stop in bed and see the sunshine; so I just caught himloading his mules, and gave him a piece of bread and cheese and adraught of wine. A smart little man he is, and one who knows hisbusiness."

  "I wish I had seen him ere he left," said Carlos aloud. "Shall I everlook upon his face again?" he added mentally.

  Carlos Alvarez saw that face again, not by the ray of sun or moon, noryet by the gleam of the student's lamp, but clear and distinct in alurid awful light more terrible than Egyptian darkness, yet fraught withstrange blessing, since it showed the way to the city of God, where thesun no more goes down, neither doth the moon withdraw herself.

  Juliano el Chico, otherwise Julian Hernandez, is no fancy sketch, no"character of fiction." It is matter of history that, cunningly stowedaway in his alforjas, amongst the ribbons, laces, and other trifles thatformed their ostensible freight, there was a large supply of Spanish NewTestaments, of the translation of Juan Perez. And that, in spite of allthe difficulties and dangers of his self-imposed task, he succeeded inconveying his precious charge safely to Seville.

  Our cheeks grow pale, our hearts shudder, at the thought of what he andothers dared, that they might bring to the lips of their countrymen thatliving water which was truly "the blood of the men that went for it injeopardy of their lives." More than jeopardy. Not alone did Julianobrave danger, he encountered certain death. Sooner or later, it wasimpossible that he should not fall into the pitiless grasp of thathideous engine of royal and priestly tyranny, called the HolyInquisition.

  We have no words in which to praise such heroism as his. We leavethat--and we may be content to leave it--to Him whose lips shall one daypronounce the sublime award, "Well done, good and faithful servant;enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." But in the view of such thingsdone and suffered for his name's sake, there is another thought thatpresses on the mind. How real and great, nay, how unutterably precious,must be that treasure which men were found willing, at such cost, notonly to secure for themselves, but even to impart to others.