In Kedar's Tents Part 37

'And I propose that your Majesty journey to Madrid in my carriage, attended only by my orderlies, by way of Aranjuez. You will be safe in Madrid, where the Queen will require her mother's care.'

'Yes. And the remainder of your plan?'

'I will travel back to Toledo in your Majesty's carriage with the woman and the priest and your bodyguard--just as your Majesty is in the habit of travelling. Toledo wants a fight; nothing else will satisfy them. They shall have it--before dawn. The very best I have to offer them.'

And General Vincente gave a queer, cheery little laugh, as if he were arranging a practical joke.

'But the fight will be round my carriage--'

'Possibly. I would rather that it took place in the Calle de la Ciudad, or around the Casa del Ayuntamiento, where your Majesty is expected to sleep to-night.'

'And these persons--this woman who risks her life to save mine--who is she?'

'My daughter,' answered the General gravely.

'She is here--in the hotel now?'

The General bowed.

'I have heard that she is beautiful,' said the Queen, with a quick glance towards her companion. 'How is it that you have never brought her to Court, you who come so seldom yourself?'

Vincente made no reply.

'However, bring her to me now.'

'She has travelled far, Madame, and is not prepared for presentation to her Queen.'

'This is no time for formalities. She is about to run a great risk for my sake, a greater risk than I could ever ask her to run.

Present her as one woman to another, General.'

But General Vincente bowed gravely and made no reply. The colour slowly rose to the Queen Regent's face--a dull red. She opened her fan, closed it again, and sat with furtive downcast eyes. Suddenly she looked up and met his gaze.

'You refuse,' she said, with an insolent air of indifference. 'You think that I am unworthy to--meet your daughter.'

'I think only of the exigency of the moment,' was his reply. 'Every minute we lose is a gain to our enemies. If our trick is discovered Aranjuez will be no safer for your Majesty than is Toledo. You must be safely in Madrid before it is discovered in Toledo that you have taken the other route, and that the person they have mistaken for you is in reality my daughter.'

'But she may be killed,' exclaimed the Queen.

'We may all be killed, Madame,' he replied lightly. 'I beg that you will start at once in my carriage with your chaplain and the holy lady who is doubtless travelling with you.'

The Queen glanced sharply at him. It was known that although her own life was anything but exemplary, she loved to a.s.sociate with women who, under the cloak of religion and an austere virtue, intrigued with all parties and condoned the Queen's offences.

'I cannot understand you,' she said, with that sudden lapse into familiarity which had led to the undoing of more than one ambitious courtier. 'You seem to wors.h.i.+p the crown and despise the head it rests on.'

'So long as I serve your Majesty faithfully--'

'But you have no right to despise me,' she interrupted pa.s.sionately.

'If I despised you, should I be here now--should I be doing you this service?'

'I do not know. I tell you I do not understand you.'

And the Queen looked hard at the man who, for this very reason, interested one who had all her life dealt and intrigued with men of obvious motive and unblus.h.i.+ng ambition.

So strong is a ruling pa.s.sion that even in sight of death (for the Queen Regent knew that Spain was full of her enemies and rendered callous to bloodshed by a long war) vanity was alert in this woman's breast. Even while General Vincente, that unrivalled strategist, detailed his plans, she kept harking back to the question that puzzled her, and but half listened to his instructions.

Those desirous of travelling without attracting attention in Spain are wise to time their arrival and departure for the afternoon. At this time, while the sun is yet hot, all shutters are closed, and the business of life, the haggling in the market-place, the bustle of the barrack yard, the leisurely labour of the fields, are suspended. It was about four o'clock--indeed, the city clocks were striking that hour--when the two carriages in the inn yard at Ciudad Real were made ready for the road. Father Concha, who never took an active part in pa.s.sing incidents while his old friend and comrade was near, sat in a shady corner of the patio and smoked a cigarette.

An affable ostler had in vain endeavoured to engage him in conversation. Two small children had begged of him, and now he was left in meditative solitude.

'In a short three minutes,' said the ostler, 'and the Excellencies can then depart. In which direction, reverendo, if one may ask?'

'One may always ask, my friend,' replied the priest. 'Indeed, the holy books are of opinion that it cannot be overdone. That chin strap is too tight.'

'Ah, I see the reverendo knows a horse.'

'And an a.s.s,' added Concha.

At this moment the General emerged from the shadow of the staircase, which was open and of stone. He was followed by Estella, as it would appear, and they hurried across the sunlighted patio, the girl carrying her fan to screen her face.

'Are you rested, my child?' asked Concha at the carriage door.

The lady lowered the fan for a moment and met his eyes. A quick look of surprise flashed across Concha's face and he half bowed.

Then he repeated his question in a louder voice:

'Are you rested, my child, after our long journey?'

'Thank you, my father, yes.'

And the ostler watched with open-mouthed interest.

The other carriage had been drawn up to that side of the courtyard where the open stairway was, and here also the bustle of departure and a hurrying female form, anxious to gain the shade of the vehicle, were discernible. It was all done so quickly, with such a military completeness of detail, that the carriages had pa.s.sed through the great doorway and the troopers--merely a general's escort--had clattered after them before the few onlookers had fully realised that these were surely travellers of some note.

The ostler hurried to the street to watch them go.

'They are going to the north,' he said to himself, as he saw the carriages turn in the direction of the river and the ancient Puerta de Toledo. 'They go to the north--and a.s.suredly the General has come to conduct her to Toledo.'

Strange to say, although it was the hour of rest, many shutters in the narrow street were open, and more than one peeping face was turned towards the departing carriages.

CHAPTER XXVII. A NIGHT JOURNEY.

'Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.'

At the cross-roads on the northern side of the river the two carriages parted company, the dusty equipage of General Vincente taking the road to Aranjuez that leads to the right and mounts steadily through olive groves. The other carriage--which, despite its plain and sombre colours, still had an air of grandeur and almost of royalty, with its great wheels and curved springs--turned to the left and headed for Toledo. Behind it clattered a dozen troopers, picked men, with huge swinging swords and travel-stained clothes. The dust rose in a cloud under the horses' feet and hovered in the sullen air. There was no breath of wind, and the sun shone through a faint haze which seemed only to add to the heat.

Concha lowered the window and thrust forward his long inquiring nose.