Montezuma's Daughter

  CHAPTER X

  THE PASSING OF ISABELLA DE SIGUENZA

  Silently we went down the long passage, and as we went I saw the eyes ofthe dwellers in this living tomb watch us pass through the gratings oftheir cell doors. Little wonder that the woman about to die had strivento escape from such a home back to the world of life and love! Yet forthat crime she must perish. Surely God will remember the doings of suchmen as these priests, and the nation that fosters them. And, in deed, Hedoes remember, for where is the splendour of Spain to-day, and where arethe cruel rites she gloried in? Here in England their fetters are brokenfor ever, and in striving to bind them fast upon us free Englishmen sheis broken also--never to be whole again.

  At the far end of the passage we found a stair down which we passed. Atits foot was an iron-bound door that the monk unlocked and lockedagain upon the further side. Then came another passage hollowed in thethickness of the wall, and a second door, and we were in the place ofdeath.

  It was a vault low and damp, and the waters of the river washed itsouter wall, for I could hear their murmuring in the silence. Perhaps theplace may have measured ten paces in length by eight broad. For the restits roof was supported by massive columns, and on one side there was asecond door that led to a prison cell. At the further end of this gloomyden, that was dimly lighted by torches and lamps, two men with hoodedheads, and draped in coarse black gowns, were at work, silently mixinglime that sent up a hot steam upon the stagnant air. By their sides weresquares of dressed stone ranged neatly against the end of the vault, andbefore them was a niche cut in the thickness of the wall itself, shapedlike a large coffin set upon its smaller end. In front of this niche wasplaced a massive chair of chestnut wood. I noticed also that two othersuch coffin-shaped niches had been cut in this same wall, and filledin with similar blocks of whitish stone. On the face of each was a dategraved in deep letters. One had been sealed up some thirty years before,and one hard upon a hundred.

  These two men were the only occupants of the vault when we entered it,but presently a sound of soft and solemn singing stole down the secondpassage. Then the door was opened, the mason monks ceased labouring atthe heap of lime, and the sound of singing grew louder so that I couldcatch the refrain. It was that of a Latin hymn for the dying. Nextthrough the open door came the choir, eight veiled nuns walking twoby two, and ranging themselves on either side of the vault they ceasedtheir singing. After them followed the doomed woman, guarded by two morenuns, and last of all a priest bearing a crucifix. This man wore a blackrobe, and his thin half-frenzied face was uncovered. All these and otherthings I noticed and remembered, yet at the time it seemed to me that Isaw nothing except the figure of the victim. I knew her again, althoughI had seen her but once in the moonlight. She was changed indeed, herlovely face was fuller and the great tormented eyes shone like starsagainst its waxen pallor, relieved by the carmine of her lips alone.Still it was the same face that some eight months before I had seenlifted in entreaty to her false lover. Now her tall shape was wrappedabout with grave clothes over which her black hair streamed, and inher arms she bore a sleeping babe that from time to time she pressedconvulsively to her breast.

  On the threshold of her tomb Isabella de Siguenza paused and lookedround wildly as though for help, scanning each of the silent watchers tofind a friend among them. Then her eye fell upon the niche and the heapof smoking lime and the men who guarded it, and she shuddered and wouldhave fallen had not those who attended her led her to the chair andplaced her in it--a living corpse.

  Now the dreadful rites began. The Dominican father stood before her andrecited her offence, and the sentence that had been passed upon her,which doomed her, 'to be left alone with God and the child of your sin,that He may deal with you as He sees fit.'* To all of this she seemed topay no heed, nor to the exhortation that followed. At length he ceasedwith a sigh, and turning to me said:

  'Draw near to this sinner, brother, and speak with her before it is toolate.'

  * Lest such cruelty should seem impossible and unprecedented, the writer may mention that in the museum of the city of Mexico, he has seen the desiccated body of a young woman, which was found immured in the walls of a religious building. With it is the body of an infant. Although the exact cause of her execution remains a matter of conjecture, there can be no doubt as to the manner of her death, for in addition to other evidences, the marks of the rope with which her limbs were bound in life are still distinctly visible. Such in those days were the mercies of religion!

  Then he bade all present gather themselves at the far end of the vaultthat our talk might not be overheard, and they did so without wonder,thinking doubtless that I was a monk sent to confess the doomed woman.

  So I drew near with a beating heart, and bending over her I spoke in herear.

  'Listen to me, Isabella de Siguenza!' I said; and as I uttered the nameshe started wildly. 'Where is that de Garcia who deceived and desertedyou?'

  'How have you learnt his true name?' she answered. 'Not even torturewould have wrung it from me as you know.'

  'I am no monk and I know nothing. I am that man who fought with deGarcia on the night when you were taken, and who would have killed himhad you not seized me.'

  'At the least I saved him, that is my comfort now.'

  'Isabella de Siguenza,' I said, 'I am your friend, the best you ever hadand the last, as you shall learn presently. Tell me where this man is,for there is that between us which must be settled.'

  'If you are my friend, weary me no more. I do not know where he is.Months ago he went whither you will scarcely follow, to the furthestIndies; but you will never find him there.'

  'It may still be that I shall, and if it should so chance, say have youany message for this man?'

  'None--yes, this. Tell him how we died, his child and his wife--tell himthat I did my best to hide his name from the priests lest some like fateshould befall him.'

  'Is that all?'

  'Yes. No, it is not all. Tell him that I passed away loving andforgiving.'

  'My time is short,' I said; 'awake and listen!' for having spoken thusshe seemed to be sinking into a lethargy. 'I was the assistant of thatAndres de Fonseca whose counsel you put aside to your ruin, and I havegiven a certain drug to the abbess yonder. When she offers you the cupof water, see that you drink and deep, you and the child. If so noneshall ever die more happily. Do you understand?'

  'Yes--yes,' she gasped, 'and may blessings rest upon you for the gift.Now I am no more afraid--for I have long desired to die--it was the wayI feared.'

  'Then farewell, and God be with you, unhappy woman.'

  'Farewell,' she answered softly, 'but call me not unhappy who am aboutto die thus easily with that I love.' And she glanced at the sleepingbabe.

  Then I drew back and stood with bent head, speaking no word. Now theDominican motioned to all to take the places where they had stood beforeand asked her:

  'Erring sister, have you aught to say before you are silent for ever?'

  'Yes,' she answered in a clear, sweet voice, that never even quavered,so bold had she become since she learned that her death would be swiftand easy. 'Yes, I have this to say, that I go to my end with a cleanheart, for if I have sinned it is against custom and not against God.I broke the vows indeed, but I was forced to take those vows, and,therefore, they did not bind. I was a woman born for light and love,and yet I was thrust into the darkness of this cloister, there to witherdead in life. And so I broke the vows, and I am glad that I havebroken them, though it has brought me to this. If I was deceived andmy marriage is no marriage before the law as they tell me now, I knewnothing of it, therefore to me it is still valid and holy and on my soulthere rests no stain. At the least I have lived, and for some few hoursI have been wife and mother, and it is as well to die swiftly in thiscell that your mercy has prepared, as more slowly in those above. Andnow for you--I tell you that your wickedness shall find you out, you whodare to say to God's children--"Ye shal
l not love," and to work murderon them because they will not listen. It shall find you out I say, andnot only you but the Church you serve. Both priest and Church shall bebroken together and shall be a scorn in the mouths of men to come.'

  'She is distraught,' said the Dominican as a sigh of fear and wonderwent round the vault, 'and blasphemes in her madness. Forget her words.Shrive her, brother, swiftly ere she adds to them.'

  Then the black-robed, keen-eyed priest came to her, and holding thecross before her face, began to mutter I know not what. But she rosefrom the chair and thrust the crucifix aside.

  'Peace!' she said, 'I will not be shriven by such as you. I take my sinsto God and not to you--you who do murder in the name of Christ.'

  The fanatic heard and a fury took him.

  'Then go unshriven down to hell, you--' and he named her by ill namesand struck her in the face with the ivory crucifix.

  The Dominican bade him cease his revilings angrily enough, but Isabellade Siguenza wiped her bruised brow and laughed aloud a dreadful laugh tohear.

  'Now I see that you are a coward also,' she said. 'Priest, this is mylast prayer, that you also may perish at the hands of fanatics, and moreterribly than I die to-night.'

  Then they hurried her into the place prepared for her and she spokeagain:

  'Give me to drink, for we thirst, my babe and I!'

  Now I saw the abbess enter that passage whence the victim had been led.Presently she came back bearing a cup of water in her hand and with it aloaf of bread, and I knew by her mien that my draught was in the water.But of what befell afterwards I cannot say certainly, for I prayedthe Dominican to open the door by which we had entered the vault, andpassing through it I stood dazed with horror at some distance. Awhile went by, I do not know how long, till at length I saw the abbessstanding before me, a lantern in her hand, and she was sobbing bitterly.

  'All is done,' she said. 'Nay, have no fear, the draught worked well.Before ever a stone was laid mother and child slept sound. Alas for hersoul who died unrepentant and unshriven!'

  'Alas for the souls of all who have shared in this night's work,' Ianswered. 'Now, mother, let me hence, and may we never meet again!'

  Then she led me back to the cell, where I tore off that accursed monk'srobe, and thence to the door in the garden wall and to the boat whichstill waited on the river, and I rejoiced to feel the sweet air upon myface as one rejoices who awakes from some foul dream. But I won littlesleep that night, nor indeed for some days to come. For whenever Iclosed my eyes there rose before me the vision of that beauteous womanas I saw her last by the murky torchlight, wrapped in grave clothes andstanding in the coffin-shaped niche, proud and defiant to the end, herchild clasped to her with one arm while the other was outstretched totake the draught of death. Few have seen such a sight, for the HolyOffice and its helpers do not seek witnesses to their dark deeds, andnone would wish to see it twice. If I have described it ill, it is notthat I have forgotten, but because even now, after the lapse of someseventy years, I can scarcely bear to write of it or to set out itshorrors fully. But of all that was wonderful about it perhaps the mostwonderful was that even to the last this unfortunate lady should stillhave clung to her love for the villain who, having deceived her by afalse marriage, deserted her, leaving her to such a doom. To what endcan so holy a gift as this great love of hers have been bestowed on sucha man? None can say, but so it was. Yet now that I think of it, there isone thing even stranger than her faithfulness.

  It will be remembered that when the fanatic priest struck her she prayedthat he also might die at such hands and more terribly than she must do.So it came about. In after years that very man, Father Pedro by name,was sent to convert the heathen of Anahuac, among whom, because of hiscruelty, he was known as the 'Christian Devil.' But it chanced thatventuring too far among a clan of the Otomie before they were finallysubdued, he fell into the hands of some priests of the war god Huitzel,and by them was sacrificed after their dreadful fashion. I saw him as hewent to his death, and without telling that I had been present whenit was uttered, I called to his mind the dying curse of Isabella deSiguenza. Then for a moment his courage gave way, for seeing in menothing but an Indian chief, he believed that the devil had put thewords into my lips to torment him, causing me to speak of what I knewnothing. But enough of this now; if it is necessary I will tell of it inits proper place. At least, whether it was by chance, or because she hada gift of vision in her last hours, or that Providence was avenged onhim after this fashion, so it came about, and I do not sorrow for it,though the death of this priest brought much misfortune on me.

  This then was the end of Isabella de Siguenza who was murdered bypriests because she had dared to break their rule.

  So soon as I could clear my mind somewhat of all that I had seen andheard in that dreadful vault, I began to consider the circumstances inwhich I found myself. In the first place I was now a rich man, and if itpleased me to go back to Norfolk with my wealth, as Fonseca had pointedout, my prospects were fair indeed. But the oath that I had taken hunglike lead about my neck. I had sworn to be avenged upon de Garcia, andI had prayed that the curse of heaven might rest upon me till I was soavenged, but in England living in peace and plenty I could scarcely comeby vengeance. Moreover, now I knew where he was, or at least in whatportion of the world I might seek him, and there where white men are fewhe could not hide from me as in Spain. This tidings I had gained fromthe doomed lady, and I have told her story at some length because itwas through it and her that I came to journey to Hispaniola, as it wasbecause of the sacrifice of her tormentor, Father Pedro, by the priestsof the Otomie that I am here in England this day, since had it not beenfor that sacrifice the Spaniards would never have stormed the City ofPines, where, alive or dead, I should doubtless have been to this hour;for thus do seeming accidents build up the fates of men. Had those wordsnever passed Isabella's lips, doubtless in time I should have weariedof a useless search and sailed for home and happiness. But having heardthem it seemed to me, to my undoing, that this would be to play thepart of a sorry coward. Moreover, strange as it may look, now I feltas though I had two wrongs to avenge, that of my mother and that ofIsabella de Siguenza. Indeed none could have seen that young and lovelylady die thus terribly and not desire to wreak her death on him who hadbetrayed and deserted her.

  So the end of it was that being of a stubborn temper, I determined to doviolence to my own desires and the dying counsels of my benefactor, andto follow de Garcia to the ends of the earth and there to kill him as Ihad sworn to do.

  First, however, I inquired secretly and diligently as to the truth ofthe statement that de Garcia had sailed for the Indies, and to be brief,having the clue, I discovered that two days after the date of the duel Ihad fought with him, a man answering to de Garcia's description, thoughbearing a different name, had shipped from Seville in a carak bound forthe Canary Islands, which carak was there to await the arrival of thefleet sailing for Hispaniola. Indeed from various circumstances I hadlittle doubt that the man was none other than de Garcia himself, which,although I had not thought of it before, was not strange, seeing thatthen as now the Indies were the refuge of half the desperadoes andvillains who could no longer live in Spain. Thither then I made up mymind to follow him, consoling myself a little by the thought that atleast I should see new and wonderful countries, though how new andwonderful they were I did not guess.

  Now it remained for me to dispose of the wealth which had come to mesuddenly. While I was wondering how I could place it in safety till myreturn, I heard by chance that the 'Adventuress' of Yarmouth, the sameship in which I had come to Spain a year before, was again in the portof Cadiz, and I bethought me that the best thing I could do with thegold and other articles of value would be to ship them to England, thereto be held in trust for me. So having despatched a message to my friendthe captain of the 'Adventuress,' that I had freight of value for him, Imade my preparations to depart from Seville with such speed as I might,and to this end I sold my benefactor's ho
use, with many of the effects,at a price much below their worth. The most of the books and plate,together with some other articles, I kept, and packing them in cases,I caused them to be transported down the river to Cadiz, to the careof those same agents to whom I had received letters from the Yarmouthmerchants.

  This being done I followed thither myself, taking the bulk of my fortunewith me in gold, which I hid artfully in numerous packages. And so itcame to pass that after a stay of a year in Seville, I turned my back onit for ever. My sojourn there had been fortunate, for I came to itpoor and left it a rich man, to say nothing of what I had gained inexperience, which was much. Yet I was glad to be gone, for here Juan deGarcia had escaped me, here I had lost my best friend and seen Isabellade Siguenza die.

  I came to Cadiz in safety and without loss of any of my goods or gold,and taking boat proceeded on board the 'Adventuress,' where I found hercaptain, whose name was Bell, in good health and very glad to see me.What pleased me more, however, was that he had three letters for me, onefrom my father, one from my sister Mary, and one from my betrothed, LilyBozard, the only letter I ever received from her. The contents of thesewritings were not altogether pleasing however, for I learned from themthat my father was in broken health and almost bedridden, and indeed,though I did not know it for many years after, he died in DitchinghamChurch upon the very day that I received his letter. It was short andsad, and in it he said that he sorrowed much that he had allowed meto go upon my mission, since he should see me no more and could onlycommend me to the care of the Almighty, and pray Him for my safe return.As for Lily's letter, which, hearing that the 'Adventuress' was to sailfor Cadiz, she had found means to despatch secretly, though it was notshort it was sad also, and told me that so soon as my back was turned onhome, my brother Geoffrey had asked her in marriage from her father, andthat they pushed the matter strongly, so that her life was made a miseryto her, for my brother waylaid her everywhere, and her father didnot cease to revile her as an obstinate jade who would fling away herfortune for the sake of a penniless wanderer.

  'But,' it went on, 'be assured, sweetheart, that unless they marry me byforce, as they have threatened to do, I will not budge from my promise.And, Thomas, should I be wedded thus against my will, I shall not bea wife for long, for though I am strong I believe that I shall die ofshame and sorrow. It is hard that I should be thus tormented, and forone reason only, that you are not rich. Still I have good hope thatthings may better themselves, for I see that my brother Wilfred ismuch inclined towards your sister Mary, and though he also urges thismarriage on me to-day, she is a friend to both of us and may be inthe way to make terms with him before she accepts his suit.' Then thewriting ended with many tender words and prayers for my safe return.

  As for the letter from my sister Mary it was to the same purpose. Asyet, she said, she could do nothing for me with Lily Bozard, for mybrother Geoffrey was mad with love for her, my father was too illto meddle in the matter, and Squire Bozard was fiercely set upon themarriage because of the lands that were at stake. Still, she hinted,things might not always be so, as a time might come when she could speakup for me and not in vain.

  Now all this news gave me much cause for thought. More indeed, it awokein me a longing for home which was so strong that it grew almost to asickness. Her loving words and the perfume that hung about the letterof my betrothed brought Lily back to me in such sort that my heart achedwith a desire to be with her. Moreover I knew that I should be welcomenow, for my fortune was far greater than my brother's would ever be,and parents do not show the door to suitors who bring more than twelvethousand golden pieces in their baggage. Also I wished to see my fatheragain before he passed beyond my reach. But still between me andmy desire lay the shadow of de Garcia and my oath. I had brooded onvengeance for so long that I felt even in the midst of this strongtemptation that I should have no pleasure in my life if I forsook myquest. To be happy I must first kill de Garcia. Moreover I had come tobelieve that did I so forsake it the curse which I had invoked wouldsurely fall upon me.

  Meanwhile I did this. Going to a notary I caused him to prepare a deedwhich I translated into English. By this deed I vested all my fortuneexcept two hundred pesos that I kept for my own use, in three persons tohold the same on my behalf till I came to claim it. Those three personswere my old master, Doctor Grimstone of Bungay, whom I knew for thehonestest of men, my sister Mary Wingfield, and my betrothed, LilyBozard. I directed them by this deed, which for greater validity Isigned upon the ship and caused to be witnessed by Captain Bell andtwo other Englishmen, to deal with the property according to theirdiscretion, investing not less than half of it in the purchase of landsand putting the rest out to interest, which interest with the rent ofthe lands was to be paid to the said Lily Bozard for her own use for solong as she remained unmarried.

  Also with the deed I executed a will by which I devised the most of myproperty to Lily Bozard should she be unmarried at the date of my death,and the residue to my sister Mary. In the event of the marriage or deathof Lily, then the whole was to pass to Mary and her heirs.

  These two documents being signed and sealed, I delivered them, togetherwith all my treasure and other goods, into the keeping of Captain Bell,charging him solemnly to hand them and my possessions to Dr. Grimstoneof Bungay, by whom he would be liberally rewarded. This he promised todo, though not until he had urged me almost with tears to accompany themmyself.

  With the gold and the deeds I sent several letters; to my father, mysister, my brother, Dr. Grimstone, Squire Bozard, and lastly to Lilyherself. In these letters I gave an account of my life and fortunessince I had come to Spain, for I gathered that others which I had senthad never reached England, and told them of my resolution to follow deGarcia to the ends of the earth.

  'Others,' I wrote to Lily, 'may think me a madman thus to postpone, orperchance to lose, a happiness which I desire above anything on earth,but you who understand my heart will not blame me, however much you maygrieve for my decision. You will know that when once I have set my mindupon an object, nothing except death itself can turn me from it, andthat in this matter I am bound by an oath which my conscience willnot suffer me to break. I could never be happy even at your side if Iabandoned my search now. First must come the toil and then the rest,first the sorrow and then the joy. Do not fear for me, I feel that Ishall live to return again, and if I do not return, at least I amable to provide for you in such fashion that you need never be marriedagainst your will. While de Garcia lives I must follow him.'

  To my brother Geoffrey I wrote very shortly, telling him what I thoughtof his conduct in persecuting an undefended maiden and striving to dowrong to an absent brother. I have heard that my letter pleased him veryill.

  And here I may state that those letters and everything else that Isent came safely to Yarmouth. There the gold and goods were taken toLowestoft and put aboard a wherry, and when he had discharged his ship,Captain Bell sailed up the Waveney with them till he brought them toBungay Staithe and thence to the house of Dr. Grimstone in NethergateStreet. Here were gathered my sister and brother, for my father was thentwo months buried--and also Squire Bozard and his son and daughter, forCaptain Bell had advised them of his coming by messenger, and when allthe tale was told there was wonder and to spare. Still greater did itgrow when the chests were opened and the weight of bullion compared withthat set out in my letters, for there had never been so much gold atonce in Bungay within the memory of man.

  And now Lily wept, first for joy because of my good fortune, and thenfor sorrow because I had not come with my treasure, and when he had seenall and heard the deeds read by virtue of which Lily was a rich womanwhether I lived or died, the Squire her father swore aloud and said thathe had always thought well of me, and kissed his daughter, wishing herjoy of her luck. In short all were pleased except my brother, who leftthe house without a word and straightway took to evil courses. Fornow the cup was dashed from his lips, seeing that having come into myfather's lands, he had brought it about that Lily
was to be married tohim by might if no other means would serve. For even now a man can forcehis daughter into marriage while she is under age, and Squire Bozardwas not one to shrink from such a deed, holding as he did that a woman'sfancies were of no account. But on this day, so great is the power ofgold, there was no more talk of her marrying any man except myself,indeed her father would have held her back from such a thing had sheshown a mind to it, seeing that then Lily would have lost the wealthwhich I had settled on her. But all talked loudly of my madness becauseI would not abandon the chase of my enemy but chose to follow him tothe far Indies, though Squire Bozard took comfort from the thought thatwhether I lived or died the money was still his daughter's. Only Lilyspoke up for me, saying 'Thomas has sworn an oath and he does well tokeep it, for his honour is at stake. Now I go to wait until he comes tome in this world or the next.'

  But all this is out of place, for many a year passed away before I heardof these doings.