A Monk of Cruta

  CHAPTER XXXII

  "THE LORD OF CRUTA"

  A strange figure stood on the edge of the castle cliff, looking acrossthe bay of Cruta to the sea. He was tall, loose jointed, and gaunt,and the long grey beard and unkempt locks of flowing hair whichstreamed behind in the breeze showed that he was an old man; but hiseyes, set back in deep hollows, and fringed with long, bushy greylashes, were still dark and piercing. Great passions had brandedhis face with deep-set lines, but had failed to belittle him. On thecontrary, his presence, though forbidding and awesome, was full oflatent strength and dignity. To the islanders, who never mentionedtheir lord's name save with bated breath and after having zealouslycrossed themselves, he was the object of the most unboundedsuperstition. His personality and the strangeness of his habitsappalled them. They scarcely believed him a being of the same world astheir own. The most ignorant amongst them firmly believed that the seaobeyed his uplifted hand, and that when he spoke the thunder rolledamongst the hills. When stories were told of the mystery and strangeisolation in which he lived, they nodded their heads and were willingto believe everything. No one ever met him or had speech with him, fortwenty years had passed since he had issued from the castle gates. Butsometimes, most often when a storm was brewing, they could see atall, dark figure standing on the giddy edge of the castle wall whichoverhung the sea, or walking, with slow, stately movements, up anddown the narrow foot-path at the summit of the cliff. If the moon hadrisen, or the sky were clear beyond, they could see the huge, gauntfigure outlined with grim distinctness against the empty background,always with his face to the sea, and with a long black cloak flowingbehind. It was not often that they saw him, but when they did theytold one another in whispers; and though the sky were cloudless andthe sea calm, the women whose husbands were out in their fishing boatsbeyond the bay told their beads and prayed for their safe return, andthose who had remained behind prepared for rough weather. Once, ata marriage feast, when all the little village was making merry, thewhisper had gone about that "the Count was walking;" and immediatelythey had all departed for their homes in fear and silence, and theluckless bride and bridegroom had hastened to the priest and besoughthim to unloose the knot, that they might celebrate their wedding onsome less ill-omened day.

  To-night the storm was already breaking when the Count appeared on thecastle wall and turned his face seaward. One by one the fishing smackswere crossing the gathering line of surf, and gaining the deep, stillwaters of the bay. As they passed underneath the towering mass ofgranite rock, against the base of which the waters were boiling andseething, the men in the boats gazed fearfully up at that black speckfar away above their heads, and crossed themselves. The Count hadstood there for an hour, they whispered, ever since that piled-up massof angry, lurid clouds had first gathered, and a warning breath ofwind had swept across the smooth, glass-like surface of the water, nowtroubled and restless. Not one of them doubted but that his coming hadbrought the storm; but there was not one of them who dared to uttera word of complaint. Only they stood up in their boats, and shieldingtheir eyes with an uplifted hand from the fierce rays of the sinkingsun, gazed out seaward, searching for the boats not yet in safety.

  Suddenly a little murmur arose from amongst them, and a word waspassed from one to another of their little crafts. The blinding glareof the sun and its reflection, stretched far away across the surfaceof the sea, had dazzled their eyes, and for the last quarter of anhour they had seen nothing on the westward horizon. But now the brightsilver light was fading into a dull, glorious purple; and full uponits bosom a strange sail was seen, making direct for the harbour. Thesunlight was still flashing upon its white sails,--little specks ofgold upon a background of richer colouring--and they saw that shewas a handsome, shapely-looking vessel, very different to the dirtyItalian lugger which put in at their harbour for a few hours week byweek.

  "Will she need a pilot?" cried Francesco, rising in his boat, andwatching the stranger. "Let us wait here, and see if she signals forone!"

  "Let us all go! There will be something for each!" cried another.

  "We will race," Antonio answered, whose boat was the fastest. "Thefirst to reach her shall have the stranger's money!"

  "No, no! that is not fair," chorused the others. "We will draw lots!"

  Then up rose old Guiseppe, the father of them all. He shook his head,and turned a sorrowing face seawards. "Peace! children. You are likechattering seabirds squabbling over a bait which will never be yours.Yonder ship will need no pilot! She is no stranger to Cruta!"

  They looked at her, and shook their heads. "We have never seen herbefore," they said.

  "Some of you are too young to remember her," the old man continued,"and you were all away when she was here within a twelvemonth ago! ButI know her! Three times has she entered this harbour, and each timehas she left sorrow and grief behind her. It is the ship of theEnglish lord who stole away the daughter of our Count many years ago!"

  There was a little murmur of suppressed wonder. Then, as though movedby a common instinct, every face was turned upward to the castle wall.

  The Count had gone. But, even as they looked, he reappeared, leadinganother figure by the hand. They held their breath with wonder. No onehad ever seen him there save alone, and now a woman stood by hisside. They could see nothing of her, save her long hair flowing inthe breeze, and the bare outline of her figure. "Who was she? Guiseppemust know! Who was she?" they asked him eagerly.

  He shook his head. "Better not ask," he answered. "Better not know!Strange things have happened up there! It is not for us to chatter ofthem!"

  "One night as I sailed homeward," Antonio said, in a low tone, "Iheard strange cries from the castle. The night was still, and thebreeze brought the sound to my ears. They came from up above, andwhen I strained my eyes I fancied that I could see a white figure--thefigure of a woman--standing on the castle walls. She was crying forhelp, but suddenly, as though a hand were placed over her mouth, hercries ceased, and the figure vanished. It was three nights before theEnglish lord died at the monastery!"

  Ferdinand stood up. "On that same night," he said, in a low, hoarsewhisper, "I saw a figure steal up the path to the castle. It was theEnglish lord! On the morrow I traced him back again with dropsof blood. They led right into the monastery courtyard. Two daysafterwards he died."

  "Silence! all of you!" commanded Guiseppe, with shaking voice. "Arethese things to be spoken of thus openly? Know you not, you children,that the winds have ears, and he listens there above us."

  "It is a thousand feet!" muttered Antonio. "To him our boats can seemonly as specks upon the water."

  "You fool!" answered Guiseppe. "Do you think that the man whosepresence brings storm and wind upon us is like ordinary men? Do youthink he cannot hear what he chooses!"

  "Ave Maria!" cried Antonio, crossing himself. "I would as soon facethe devil himself as the Count! I shall ask Father Bernard to say aprayer for me to-night!"

  "Do! and I hope his penance will be a stiff one," answered Guiseppegrimly. "Come, let us trim our sails, and get homeward. The Englishship will not want us, and we can watch who lands from the beach."

  "'Twould be no such bad thing if she struck on the rocks, if shebrings such ill luck to the castle," muttered Antonio, as he unfurledthe sail and grasped the tiller. "There would be some pickings for us,beyond doubt--some pretty pickings!"