CHAPTER XXXVII
THE DEAD STAND SENTINEL
They walked on for a while in silence, Rollo too much thunderstruck andconfounded to speak a word. His whole being was rent with the mostopposite feelings. He was certainly angry with Concha. So much was clearto him. It was rash, it was unmaidenly to follow him at such a time andin such a guise. Yet, after all the girl had come. She was risking aterrible death for his sake. Well, what of that? It was right andnatural that he should hold his life in his hands. All his life he hadloved adventure as men their daily bread--not passionately, but as anecessity of existence.
But this--it was too great for him, too mighty, too surprising. For hissake! Because he dared! All the girls to whom he had made love--ay,even Peggy Ramsay herself, running barefoot in the braes ofFalkland--instantly vanished. Life or death became no greatmatter--almost, as it seemed to him then, the same thing. For here wasone who held all the world as well lost for him.
Meanwhile Concha walked silently alongside, the ox-staff still in herhands, but dimly understanding what was passing in his mind. Love to herwas exceedingly simple. Her creed contained but two articles, or ratherthe same truth, brief, pregnant, uncontrovertible, stated in differentways: "_If he live, I will live with him! If he die, I will die withhim!_"
So with her eyes on the oxen and her goad laid gently on this side andthat of the meek heads, Concha guided them along the silent streets.Nevertheless, she was keenly aware of Rollo also, and observed himclosely. She did not understand what he was doing in the garb of afriar, collecting the dead of the plague on the streets of SanIldefonso. But it did not matter, it was sufficient that he was doingit, and that (thank God!) she had escaped from the beleaguered palace intime to help him. She even reminded him of his duty, without asking asingle question as to why he did it--self-abnegation passing wonderfulin a woman!
"You have forgotten to cry," she whispered, dropping back from the ox'shead. "We have passed two alleys without a warning!"
And so once more there rang down the streets of the town of SanIldefonso that dolorous and terrible cry which was to be heard in thedread plague-years, not only in the Iberian peninsula but also inEngland and Rollo's own Scotland, "_Bring out your dead! Bring out yourdead!_"
It chanced that in the next street, the last of the little town, theymade up their full complement. The heads of the oxen were directed oncemore towards the Hermitage. They turned this corner and that slowly anddecorously till, with a quickening of pace and a forward inclination ofthe meek, moist nostrils, the pair struck into the woodland path towardstheir stable at the Hermitage.
Not one word either of love or of reproach had Rollo spoken since thoseinto which he had been startled by the fear lest the girl should sether hand upon the dead of the plague. Nor did they speak even now. Rolloonly put out his gloved hand to steady the cart here and there in thedeeper ruts, motioning Concha to remain at the head of the oxen, whereno breath of the dead might blow upon her.
Thus, no man saying them nay, they arrived at the Hermitage of SanIldefonso. It was quiet even as they had left it.
As they came round to the front of the building, the Basque at the doorwas before them. He met them on the steps, a lantern in his hand.
"Who is this?" he asked, with a significant gesture towards Concha.
"Carlos--a lad of our company, an Andalucian," said Rollo, in answer. "Imet him by chance in the town, and he has helped me with the oxen."
The friar nodded and, letting down the rear flap of the cart, hesurveyed the melancholy harvest.
"Twelve!" he said. "Not many, but enough. The dead will guard us wellfrom the evil men! Ay, better than an army of twelve thousand living!"
And attiring himself in an apron of tarred stuff similar to the gloves,he fastened another of the same material upon Rollo.
"We will now proceed to set our sentries!" he said, grimly.
As Rollo put on the gauntlets and approached to help Brother Teodoro todraw out the corpses, Concha hovered near, half timid, and yet with acertain decision of manner. The timidity was lest she should be refusedin that which it was upon her tongue to ask.
"Let me help the brother," she said at last; "I have nursed many--noplague will touch me!"
The monk stared at the lad in wonder as he proffered his request. ButRollo roughly and angrily ordered Concha back to the heads of the oxen,which, with true Spanish fortitude, stood chewing the cud till theyshould be set free and returned to their stalls.
"Is this boy by any chance your brother?" said the monk, as between themthey settled the first sheeted dead in his niche by the side of thegreat door.
"Nay," said Rollo, "not my brother."
"Then of a surety he hath a great affection for you," continued themonk. "It is a thing unusual in one of his age!"
To this Rollo did not reply, and in silence the cart was led about thehouse till every door and practicable entrance was guarded by one ofthese solemn warders. Then, the dead-cart being pushed within its shedand the oxen restored to their stalls, the three went within and thedoors were locked, the bolts drawn, and everything about the Hermitagemade as secure as possible.
It was yet a good two hours from daylight, and if the gipsies werecoming that night their appearance would not be long delayed. It wasRollo's opinion that they would attack with the first glimmer of lightfrom the east. For the Ermita de San Ildefonso was not like La Granja, aplace set amongst open _parterres_. It was closely guarded by talltrees, and in the absence of a moon the darkness was intense, a faintstar-glimmer alone being reflected from the whitewashed walls of theHermitage.
Within, the two stout brothers and the little humorously featuredalmoner had already seen to the safety of every window and door. Abovestairs in a retired chamber the little Queen had been sequestered fromany breath of the plague-stricken sentries keeping their last vigilwithout, and also that she might be safe from every random bullet if theplace should be attacked.
Rollo followed the Basque upwards to the roof, and Concha, with her_capa_ still about her shoulders, followed Rollo into the light of thehall, nervously dragging the folds as low as possible about her knees.
The little Queen had two candles before her, and under her fingers was agreat book of maps, upon which dragons and tritons, whales and seamonsters, writhed across uncharted seas, while an equal wealth ofunicorns and fire-breathing gryphons freely perambulated the unexploredcontinental spaces. As it chanced Isabel was not at all sleepy, and toquiet her the Basque had set out some of the illuminating materialsbelonging to the order on slabs of porcelain, and with these she wasemployed in making gay the tall pages with the national yellow and red,and (as her great namesake had done before her) planting the flag ofSpain over considerably more than half the world.
But as soon as the girl's eyes fell on Concha, she sprang up and letpaint-brush and china-slab fall together to the ground.
"Oh, I know you," she cried (here Rollo trembled); "you are the newpage-boy from Aranjuez! He was to arrive to-day. What is your name?"
"Carlos," said the new page-boy from Aranjuez, from whose cheek also therose had momentarily fled.
"And why do you wear that curious red cap?" cried the little Queen. "Iknow Dona Susana would be very angry if she saw you. Pages must showtheir own hair and wear it in curls too. Have you pretty hair?"
"It is the cap of liberty the boy wears, Princess!" said the Basquefriar, breaking in quickly, and with some irony. "Do you not know thatsince Senor Mendizabel came to Madrid from England we are all to have asmuch liberty as we want?"
"Well," replied the Princess, tartly, "all I know is that I wish _I_ hadmore of it. Dona Susana will not let me do a single thing I want to do.But when I grow up I mean to do just what I like."
Which truly royal and Bourbon sentiment had a better fate than mostprophecies, for Isabel the Second afterwards lived to fulfil it to theuttermost, both in the spirit and in the letter.
But the girl had not yet finished her inspection of Concha.
&
nbsp; "Do you know," she went on, "I think you are the very prettiest boy Ihave ever seen. You may come and kiss me. When I am grown up, I willmake you an officer of my bodyguard!"
* * * * *
Leaving little Isabel Segunda to make friends according to her heartwith the page-boy from Aranjuez (to whom she immediately proceeded toswear an unalterable fidelity), Rollo and Brother Teodoro retired, toawait with what patience they might the long-delayed approach of thegipsies.
"Twice during your absence did I believe them on their way," said thefriar. "On the first occasion I heard in the wood wild cries, mixed withoaths, cursings, and revilings, unfit for any Christian ears. God helpthis land that holdeth such heathens within it! But something must haveaffrighted the factious, for little by little the noises died away. Isaw the red gleam in the sky wax and wane. And once there was a scream,strange and terrible, like that of a demon unchained. But, lo! when youcame again with the oxen and the dead, all grew still. It was passingstrange!"
"Not, as I think, more strange than that!" said Rollo, looking out overthe parapet and pointing to the grim line of sentries which guarded theHermitage of San Ildefonso. The ruddy light of approaching day scarcetinged the tree-tops, but the highest fleecy clouds had caught the glowlong before the horizon was touched. Yet the darkness down among thetrees was less absolute than before. There was also a weird, far-awaycrying, and then the cheerful clatter of hoofs upon a road nearer athand. A slight stirring among the higher foliage advertised the comingof a breeze. Involuntarily the two men shivered, as with a soughingmurmur a blast of icy wind swept down from the peaks of Penalara, andthe Basque gripped his companion by the arm. Priest as he was, thesuperstitions of his ancient race were not dead in his heart, nor had heforgotten his early military association with camps and sentinels.
"_Grand rounds!_" he cried; "_it is the Angel of Death visiting hisoutposts!_"
But Rollo had other and more practical thoughts. He was aware that afterthe fatigues of the night and the proximity of so many victims of theplague, a chill would most likely be fatal. So he carefully drew asilken handkerchief from his pocket and fastened it calmly about histhroat, advising the monk to cover his head with his hood.
Then suddenly another sound caught his ear. It was the identical signalhe had heard from Sergeant Cardono, the same that had been repeated inthe garden of the royal palace as he stood among the reeds of the canebrake. Beginning with the low morning twitter of the swallow, itincreased in volume till it carried far over the woodlands, wild andshrill as he remembered the winter cry of the whaups sweeping down fromthe Fife Lomonds to follow the ebb tide as it sullenly recedes from EdenMouth towards Tents Muir.
"They are here," he whispered hoarsely to his companion. "It is thegipsies' battle signal!"
The Basque spread abroad his hands, raising them first to heaven andanon pointing in the direction of the approaching foe.
"The scourge of God!" he cried, "let the scourge of God descend uponthose that do wickedly! The prayer of a dying man availeth! Let the doomfall!"
He was silent a moment, and then added with an air of majesticprophecy--"Oaths and cursings are in their mouths, but, like the dead inthe camp of Sennacherib, they shall be dead and dumb."
Again he spread his hands abroad, as if he pronounced a benediction uponthe sentries posted below.
"Blessed souls," he cried, "for whom we of this Holy House have diedthat you might live, cause that your poor vile bodies may fight for usthis night! Let the dead meet the living and the living be over-thrown!Hear, Almighty Lord of both quick and dead--hear and answer!"