Montezuma's Daughter

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE SECOND MEETING

  It may be thought that while I was employed thus I had forgotten theobject of my coming to Spain, namely to avenge my mother's murder on theperson of Juan de Garcia. But this was not so. So soon as I was settledin the house of Andres de Fonseca I set myself to make inquiries as tode Garcia's whereabouts with all possible diligence, but without result.

  Indeed, when I came to consider the matter coolly it seemed that I hadbut a slender chance of finding him in this city. He had, indeed, givenit out in Yarmouth that he was bound for Seville, but no ship bearingthe same name as his had put in at Cadiz or sailed up the Guadalquivir,nor was it likely, having committed murder in England, that he wouldspeak the truth as to his destination. Still I searched on. The housewhere my mother and grandmother had lived was burned down, and as theirmode of life had been retired, after more than twenty years of changefew even remembered their existence. Indeed I only discovered one, anold woman whom I found living in extreme poverty, and who once had beenmy grandmother's servant and knew my mother well, although she was notin the house at the time of her flight to England. From this woman Igathered some information, though, needless to say, I did not tell herthat I was the grandson of her old mistress.

  It seemed that after my mother fled to England with my father, de Garciapersecuted my grandmother and his aunt with lawsuits and by other means,till at last she was reduced to beggary, in which condition the villainleft her to die. So poor was she indeed, that she was buried in a publicgrave. After that the old woman, my informant, said she had heard thatde Garcia had committed some crime and been forced to flee the country.What the crime was she could not remember, but it had happened aboutfifteen years ago.

  All this I learned when I had been about three months in Seville, andthough it was of interest it did not advance me in my search.

  Some four or five nights afterwards, as I entered my employer's houseI met a young woman coming out of the doorway of the patio; she wasthickly veiled and my notice was drawn to her by her tall and beautifulfigure and because she was weeping so violently that her body shookwith her sobs. I was already well accustomed to such sights, for manyof those who sought my master's counsel had good cause to weep, and Ipassed her without remark. But when I was come into the room where hereceived his patients, I mentioned that I had met such a person andasked if it was any one whom I knew.

  'Ah! nephew,' said Fonseca, who always called me thus by now, and indeedbegan to treat me with as much affection as though I were really ofhis blood, 'a sad case, but you do not know her and she is no payingpatient. A poor girl of noble birth who had entered religion and takenher vows, when a gallant appears, meets her secretly in the conventgarden, promises to marry her if she will fly with him, indeed does gothrough some mummery of marriage with her--so she says--and the restof it. Now he has deserted her and she is in trouble, and what is more,should the priests catch her, likely to learn what it feels like to dieby inches in a convent wall. She came to me for counsel and brought somesilver ornaments as the fee. Here they are.'

  'You took them!'

  'Yes, I took them--I always take a fee, but I gave her back their weightin gold. What is more, I told her where she might hide from the prieststill the hunt is done with. What I did not like to tell her is that herlover is the greatest villain who ever trod the streets of Seville.What was the good? She will see little more of him. Hist! here comesthe duchess--an astrological case this. Where are the horoscope and thewand, yes, and the crystal ball? There, shade the lamps, give me thebook, and vanish.'

  I obeyed, and presently met the great lady, a stout woman attended bya duenna, gliding fearfully through the darkened archways to learn theanswer of the stars and pay many good pesos for it, and the sight of hermade me laugh so much that I forgot quickly about the other lady and herwoes.

  And now I must tell how I met my cousin and my enemy de Garcia for thesecond time. Two days after my meeting with the veiled lady it chancedthat I was wandering towards midnight through a lonely part of the oldcity little frequented by passers-by. It was scarcely safe to be thusalone in such a place and hour, but the business with which I had beencharged by my master was one that must be carried out unattended. Also Ihad no enemies whom I knew of, and was armed with the very sword that Ihad taken from de Garcia in the lane at Ditchingham, the sword that hadslain my mother, and which I bore in the hope that it might serve toavenge her. In the use of this weapon I had grown expert enough by now,for every morning I took lessons in the art of fence.

  My business being done I was walking slowly homeward, and as I went Ifell to thinking of the strangeness of my present life and of how far itdiffered from my boyhood in the valley of the Waveney, and of many otherthings. And then I thought of Lily and wondered how her days passed, andif my brother Geoffrey persecuted her to marry him, and whether or noshe would resist his importunities and her father's. And so as I walkedmusing I came to a water-gate that opened on to the Guadalquivir, andleaning upon the coping of a low wall I rested there idly to considerthe beauty of the night. In truth it was a lovely night, for across allthese years I remember it. Let those who have seen it say if they knowany prospect more beautiful than the sight of the August moon shining onthe broad waters of the Guadalquivir and the clustering habitations ofthe ancient city.

  Now as I leaned upon the wall and looked, I saw a man pass up the stepsbeside me and go on into the shadow of the street. I took no note of himtill presently I heard a murmur of distant voices, and turning my head Idiscovered that the man was in conversation with a woman whom he had metat the head of the path that ran down to the water-gate. Doubtless itwas a lovers' meeting, and since such sights are of interest to all, andmore especially to the young, I watched the pair. Soon I learned thatthere was little of tenderness in this tryst, at least on the part ofthe gallant, who drew continually backwards toward me as though he wouldseek the boat by which doubtless he had come, and I marvelled at this,for the moonlight shone upon the woman's face, and even at that distanceI could see that it was very fair. The man's face I could not seehowever, since his back was towards me for the most part, moreover hewore a large sombrero that shaded it. Now they came nearer to me, theman always drawing backward and the woman always following, till atlength they were within earshot. The woman was pleading with the man.

  'Surely you will not desert me,' she said, 'after marrying me andall that you have sworn; you will not have the heart to desert me. Iabandoned everything for you. I am in great danger. I--' and here hervoice fell so that I could not catch her words.

  Then he spoke. 'Fairest, now as always I adore you. But we must partawhile. You owe me much, Isabella. I have rescued you from the grave,I have taught you what it is to live and love. Doubtless with youradvantages and charms, your great charms, you will profit by the lesson.Money I cannot give you, for I have none to spare, but I have endowedyou with experience that is more valuable by far. This is our farewellfor awhile and I am brokenhearted. Yet

  "'Neath fairer skies Shine other eyes,"

  and I--' and again he spoke so low that I could not catch his words.

  As he talked on, all my body began to tremble. The scene was movingindeed, but it was not that which stirred me so deeply, it was the man'svoice and bearing that reminded me--no, it could scarcely be!

  'Oh! you will not be so cruel,' said the lady, 'to leave me, your wife,thus alone and in such sore trouble and danger. Take me with you, Juan,I beseech you!' and she caught him by the arm and clung to him.

  He shook her from him somewhat roughly, and as he did so his wide hatfell to the ground so that the moonlight shone upon his face. By Heaven!it was he--Juan de Garcia and no other! I could not be mistaken. Therewas the deeply carved, cruel face, the high forehead with the scar onit, the thin sneering mouth, the peaked beard and curling hair. Chancehad given him into my hand, and I would kill him or he should kill me.

  I took three paces and stood before him, drawing my sword as I came.

>   'What, my dove, have you a bully at hand?' he said stepping backastonished. 'Your business, senor? Are you here to champion beauty indistress?'

  'I am here, Juan de Garcia, to avenge a murdered woman. Do you remembera certain river bank away in England, where you chanced to meet a ladyyou had known, and to leave her dead? Or if you have forgotten, perhapsat least you will remember this, which I carry that it may kill you,'and I flashed the sword that had been his before his eyes.

  'Mother of God! It is the English boy who--' and he stopped.

  'It is Thomas Wingfield who beat and bound you, and who now purposes tofinish what he began yonder as he has sworn. Draw, or, Juan de Garcia, Iwill stab you where you stand.'

  De Garcia heard this speech, that to-day seems to me to smack of thetheatre, though it was spoken in grimmest earnest, and his face grewlike the face of a trapped wolf. Yet I saw that he had no mind to fight,not because of cowardice, for to do him justice he was no coward, butbecause of superstition. He feared to fight with me since, as I learnedafterwards, he believed that he would meet his end at my hand, and itwas for this reason chiefly that he strove to kill me when first we met.

  'The duello has its laws, senor,' he said courteously. 'It is not usualto fight thus unseconded and in the presence of a woman. If you believethat you have any grievance against me--though I know not of what yourave, or the name by which you call me--I will meet you where and whenyou will.' And all the while he looked over his shoulder seeking someway of escape.

  'You will meet me now,' I answered. 'Draw or I strike!'

  Then he drew, and we fell to it desperately enough, till the sparksflew, indeed, and the rattle of steel upon steel rang down the quietstreet. At first he had somewhat the better of me, for my hate made mewild in my play, but soon I settled to the work and grew cooler. I meantto kill him--more, I knew that I should kill him if none came betweenus. He was still a better swordsman than I, who, till I fought with himin the lane at Ditchingham, had never even seen one of these Spanishrapiers, but I had the youth and the right on my side, as also I had aneye like a hawk's and a wrist of steel.

  Slowly I pressed him back, and ever my play grew closer and better andhis became wilder. Now I had touched him twice, once in the face, and Iheld him with his back against the wall of the way that led down to thewater-gate, and it had come to this, that he scarcely strove to thrustat me at all, but stood on his defence waiting till I should tire. Then,when victory was in my hand disaster overtook me, for the woman, who hadbeen watching bewildered, saw that her faithless lover was in danger ofdeath and straightway seized me from behind, at the same time sendingup shriek after shriek for help. I shook her from me quickly enough,but not before de Garcia, seeing his advantage, had dealt me a coward'sthrust that took me in the right shoulder and half crippled me, so thatin my turn I must stand on my defence if I would keep my life in me.Meanwhile the shrieks had been heard, and of a sudden the watch camerunning round the corner whistling for help. De Garcia saw them, anddisengaging suddenly, turned and ran for the water-gate, the lady alsovanishing, whither I do not know.

  Now the watch was on me, and their leader came at me to seize me,holding a lantern in his hand. I struck it with the handle of the sword,so that it fell upon the roadway, where it blazed up like a bonfire.Then I turned also and fled, for I did not wish to be dragged beforethe magistrates of the city as a brawler, and in my desire to escape Iforgot that de Garcia was escaping also. Away I went and three of thewatch after me, but they were stout and scant of breath, and by thetime that I had run three furlongs I distanced them. I halted to get mybreath and remembered that I had lost de Garcia and did not know when Ishould find him again. At first I was minded to return and seek him, butreflection told me that by now it would be useless, also that the endof it might be that I should fall into the hands of the watch, who wouldknow me by my wound, which began to pain me. So I went homeward cursingmy fortune, and the woman who had clasped me from behind just as I wasabout to send the death-thrust home, and also my lack of skill which haddelayed that thrust so long. Twice I might have made it and twice I hadwaited, being overcautious and over-anxious to be sure, and now I hadlost my chance, and might bide many a day before it came again.

  How should I find him in this great city? Doubtless, though I had notthought of it, de Garcia passed under some feigned name as he had doneat Yarmouth. It was bitter indeed to have been so near to vengeance andto have missed it.

  By now I was at home and bethought me that I should do well to go toFonseca, my master, and ask his help. Hitherto I had said nothing ofthis matter to him, for I have always loved to keep my own counsel, andas yet I had not spoken of my past even to him. Going to the room wherehe was accustomed to receive patients, I found he had retired to rest,leaving orders that I was not to awake him this night as he was weary.So I bound up my hurt after a fashion and sought my bed also, veryill-satisfied with my fortune.

  On the morrow I went to my master's chamber where he still lay abed,having been seized by a sudden weakness that was the beginning ofthe illness which ended in his death. As I mixed a draught for him henoticed that my shoulder was hurt and asked me what had happened. Thisgave me my opportunity, which I was not slow to take.

  'Have you patience to listen to a story?' I said, 'for I would seek yourhelp.'

  'Ah!' he answered, 'it is the old case, the physician cannot healhimself. Speak on, nephew.'

  Then I sat down by the bed and told him all, keeping nothing back. Itold him the history of my mother and my father's courtship, of my ownchildhood, of the murder of my mother by de Garcia, and of the oaththat I had sworn to be avenged upon him. Lastly I told him of what hadhappened upon the previous night and how my enemy had evaded me. All thewhile that I was speaking Fonseca, wrapped in a rich Moorish robe, satup in the bed holding his knees beneath his chin, and watching my facewith his keen eyes. But he spoke no word and made no sign till I hadfinished the tale.

  'You are strangely foolish, nephew,' he said at length. 'For the mostpart youth fails through rashness, but you err by over-caution. Byover-caution in your fence you lost your chance last night, and so byover-caution in hiding this tale from me you have lost a far greateropportunity. What, have you not seen me give counsel in many suchmatters, and have you ever known me to betray the confidence even of theveriest stranger? Why then did you fear for yours?'

  'I do not know,' I answered, 'but I thought that first I would searchfor myself.'

  'Pride goeth before a fall, nephew. Now listen: had I known this historya month ago, by now de Garcia had perished miserably, and not by yourhand, but by that of the law. I have been acquainted with the man fromhis childhood, and know enough to hang him twice over did I choose tospeak. More, I knew your mother, boy, and now I see that it was thelikeness in your face to hers that haunted me, for from the first it wasfamiliar. It was I also who bribed the keepers of the Holy Office to letyour father loose, though, as it chanced, I never saw him, and arrangedhis flight. Since then, I have had de Garcia through my hands some fouror five times, now under this name and now under that. Once even he cameto me as a client, but the villainy that he would have worked was tooblack for me to touch. This man is the wickedest whom I have known inSeville, and that is saying much, also he is the cleverest and the mostrevengeful. He lives by vice for vice, and there are many deaths uponhis hands. But he has never prospered in his evil-doing, and to-dayhe is but an adventurer without a name, who lives by blackmail, and byruining women that he may rob them at his leisure. Give me those booksfrom the strong box yonder, and I will tell you of this de Garcia.'

  I did as he bade me, bringing the heavy parchment volumes, each bound invellum and written in cipher.

  'These are my records,' he said, 'though none can read them exceptmyself. Now for the index. Ah! here it is. Give me volume three, andopen it at page two hundred and one.'

  I obeyed, laying the book on the bed before him, and he began to readthe crabbed marks as easily as though they were good black-letter.
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  'De Garcia--Juan. Height, appearance, family, false names, and so on.This is it--history. Now listen.'

  Then came some two pages of closely written matter, expressed in secretsigns that Fonseca translated as he read. It was brief enough, but sucha record as it contained I have never heard before nor since. Here, setout against this one man's name, was well nigh every wickedness of whicha human being could be capable, carried through by him to gratify hisappetites and revengeful hate, and to provide himself with gold.

  In that black list were two murders: one of a rival by the knife, andone of a mistress by poison. And there were other things even worse, tooshameful, indeed, to be written.

  'Doubtless there is more that has not come beneath my notice,' saidFonseca coolly, 'but these things I know for truth, and one of themurders could be proved against him were he captured. Stay, give me ink,I must add to the record.'

  And he wrote in his cipher: 'In May, 1517, the said de Garcia sailed toEngland on a trading voyage, and there, in the parish of Ditchingham, inthe county of Norfolk, he murdered Luisa Wingfield, spoken of above asLuisa de Garcia, his cousin, to whom he was once betrothed. In Septemberof the same year, or previously, under cover of a false marriage, hedecoyed and deserted one Donna Isabella of the noble family of Siguenza,a nun in a religious house in this city.'

  'What!' I exclaimed, 'is the girl who came to seek your help two nightssince the same that de Garcia deserted?'

  'The very same, nephew. It was she whom you heard pleading with him lastnight. Had I known two days ago what I know to-day, by now this villainhad been safe in prison. But perhaps it is not yet too late. I amill, but I will rise and see to it. Leave it to me, nephew. Go, nurseyourself, and leave it to me; if anything may be done I can do it. Stay,bid a messenger be ready. This evening I shall know whatever there is tobe known.'

  That night Fonseca sent for me again.

  'I have made inquiries,' he said. 'I have even warned the officersof justice for the first time for many years, and they are hunting deGarcia as bloodhounds hunt a slave. But nothing can be heard of him. Hehas vanished and left no trace. To-night I write to Cadiz, for he mayhave fled there down the river. One thing I have discovered, however.The Senora Isabella was caught by the watch, and being recognised ashaving escaped from a convent, she was handed over to the executories ofthe Holy Office, that her case may be investigated, or in other words,should her fault be proved, to death.'

  'Can she be rescued?'

  'Impossible. Had she followed my counsel she would never have beentaken.'

  'Can she be communicated with?'

  'No. Twenty years ago it might have been managed, now the Office isstricter and purer. Gold has no power there. We shall never see or hearof her again, unless, indeed, it is at the hour of her death, when,should she choose to speak with me, the indulgence may possibly begranted to her, though I doubt it. But it is not likely that she willwish to do so. Should she succeed in hiding her disgrace, she mayescape; but it is not probable. Do not look so sad, nephew, religionmust have its sacrifices. Perchance it is better for her to die thusthan to live for many years dead in life. She can die but once. May herblood lie heavy on de Garcia's head!'

  'Amen!' I answered.