The Story of Don John of Austria by Luis Coloma (ereader manga .txt) 📗

and very obstinate. His Majesty will order what he wills, I had resolved to take her by night and put her in a convent, but I did not like to do so without first consulting him."

D. Philip answered the Duque de Alba by the following letter written in cipher.

"The King.

"Duke and Cousin. Cayas has shown me the letter you wrote about my brother D. John's mother, which, for reasons you mention and enter into, grieves me much, because she does not live with seemly modesty and respectability; and it appears to me, as it does to you, that the only thing to do is to bring her here, and her son is also of the same opinion, to whom I have sent Juan de Soto, to say I have done it for her welfare, these States being in the condition they are, without saying more, as there was no need to do so, and, as I understand the journey is to be by sea, if they were to tell her beforehand, it is very likely that she would do something foolish; it would be well to keep her in the dark until a safe ship is found, and then, everything being ready and the weather fine, to put her on board, whether she likes it or not, with a suitable retinue, giving orders that everything necessary for the journey should be provided, and that during it she should be well treated. Let me know in time, that she may be met at the port, and from there taken to the nearest and most suitable convent, which I have not yet decided on."

It was not the first time that the brothers had talked about this painful subject; but now D. John knew all, without palliation or reserve. D. Philip told him in wise and tactful words, like a kind surgeon, who, without wishing to pain, probes a wound, and suggested the remedy like a father who discusses a sad family matter. As there was no other way, they determined to remove Barbara Blombergh from Flanders by deceiving her, and to bring her to Spain, where, by D. John's proposal, she should be given into the charge of Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, that this noble lady should settle her in her own proximity, wherever, in her prudence, discretion and charity, she deemed best. This idea appeared an excellent one to D. Philip, and a few days later D. John set out for Abrojo, where Doña Magdalena was expecting him.

Never had the mourning figure seemed so dignified to him, or had he found such sweet and deep repose in her company, or thought that he saw in her still beautiful eyes such intense love, such maternal solicitude, or such tender grace as when she showed him the big coffers of linen which she had ready for him, neckties of Flemish point which she herself tried on, and the full starched ruffs, very full as she knew that he liked them.

And it was his yearning for a mother, exasperated by the disillusion about his own parent, that was comforted by the pure love and great virtues of that other whom a merciful Heaven had sent to him. D. John stayed four days at Abrojo, confiding everything that was on his mind to Doña Magdalena, joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, triumphs and disappointments, errors and repentances; and when she said good-bye at the convent door, she thought, as she did the first time she saw him on the staircase of Villagarcia, "It is a pity he is not really my son!" And he said to himself with infinite bitterness, as he kissed her hand for the last time, "It is a pity that she is not really my mother."

D. John left Abrojo with the profound regret and vague mistrust that a wanderer feels who sets out on the desert sand after a day's rest in an oasis. A friendly voice, however, encouraged him all that day, telling him that a glorious future was his, if he fought with firmness and waited with patience, which is the advice constancy gives that fiery activity should achieve its purpose: that Gregory XIII's idea was certain to be realised because it was great and just, and easy and feasible, and in the end he would share the throne with the hitherto unfortunate Queen of Scots; the England of D. John and the Spain of Philip being the two strong pillars of the Holy Catholic Church.

He who spoke thus to D. John was Escovedo, whom Philip had commissioned to moderate D. John's ambitious thoughts. And the most strange thing is that Escovedo was clever and honest and was talking seriously.

CHAPTER X

Antonio Pérez relates in his famous "Memorial" that at first the secretary Escovedo served the King very well in moderating the ambitious ideas of D. John, but that "as time went on it was evident that he not only did not fulfil the purpose for which he had been sent (to Italy), but that his boldness, like that of Juan de Soto, increased, and that in particular it was known that he began to have communication with Rome for some benefit or grandeur for D. John, without informing his Majesty."

There is truth in all this, mingled with much falsehood, as is the case with all the contents of this venomous book. Escovedo never thought that D. John was acting through vulgar ambition; although vulgarity is found in all spheres, it was distasteful to his heroic nature; but he really thought, as Antonio Pérez assured him, that D. John was blinded by his ambitious ideas, and was craving the protection of Rome to carry into effect visionary plans, which, to say the least, would hamper his brother's policy, and that, in short, he was a brave youth, flushed by his victories, whom it would be necessary to lead by the hand along the beaten path of common sense, that he should not engulf his own great qualities in the abyss of daring and fantasy. This is what Escovedo believed about D. John when he went for the first time to Italy in the capacity of secretary: but, learning to appreciate the frank charm of his ways and the simple cheerfulness of his loyal character, he retracted this opinion, and, little by little, the more he knew of D. John and his affairs, the more he became convinced that what Antonio Pérez called his foolhardy notions were really vigorous flights of genius; and that what he named fantastic plans were the well-considered schemes of two Pontiffs like Pius V and Gregory XIII, who were those that thought of and upheld the project of conquering England; and that, quite contrary to what Pérez said, the solicitations at Rome, far from being humiliating to the King of Spain, were honourable offers made, times and again, to D. John by the Popes, who were enchanted by his bravery and valour, and were convinced that this John, sent by God, was called to be one of the firmest pillars of the Catholic Church.

Then the same thing occurred which had happened to Juan de Quiroga and afterwards to Juan de Soto. Escovedo became as devoted to D. John as they had been; he was converted into a sincere admirer, who loudly sang D. John's praises and began to favour his plans with all the force of his energetic and passionate nature, giving a strange instance, which proves so much, of three men of recognised merit, of unimpeachable honour and upright intention, all warned by Antonio Pérez against D. John's ambitious plans, falling, one by one, under the spell of his charm, and, against their own interests, devoting themselves to serving and helping him. A great proof that the spell D. John used to throw over these people to draw them to him was, without any doubt, his own worthiness.

This change in Escovedo was effected very quickly, and Madrid knew of it at once, as by June, 1575, it was already an anxiety there, as is shown by the following note written, according to that prudent Monarch's habit, by Philip on the margin of a letter of Mateo Vázguez's. "The arrival of Escovedo is certain, as you will see by this letter, and although it appears he is not coming to ask for money, I am, to the last degree, broken-hearted and tired out by it: although it will be well to send him on at once, I cannot help thinking that he is encouraging him and that that is why he is sent and no one else."

Escovedo did not come to Spain in search of money, although this was very scarce, as it always was in all D. Philip's undertakings: D. John sent him to notify to the King a new complication which had arisen in Genoa, due to the intervention of the Pope in these circumstances, and to ask for instructions on so delicate a matter.

Having overcome the danger of the Turk in the summer of 1575, D. John gave himself up with perseverance all the rest of that year and the next to ending these quarrels which might undermine the influence of Spain in Italy and even drag her into a war with France. He therefore watched the trend of affairs, sometimes in Naples, sometimes in Genoa itself, finding time and opportunity in both places to give himself up to gay amusements, even to culpable excesses, to which his youth disposed him and the relaxed morals of the day incited him.

It is to this period of his life that must be assigned his intrigues with the unhappy Zenobia Saratosio, who ended by crying over her sin in the convent of St. Mary of Egypt, and with Doña Ana de Toledo, the proud and domineering woman, who, perhaps, would have been the ruin of D. John, had he not by an effort of his strong will, sharpened by a sense of duty, torn himself in time from her evil influence. Luckily these flowery chains did not bind D. John's manly soul; he broke at every step all that impeded his indomitable temper, or what was insisted on by the disquieting voice of remorse.

One night D. John was supping in the palace of Doña Ana de Toledo with several others of those who screened and upheld his evil ways. Suddenly one of his captains of the guard entered hurriedly with the news that on one of the galleys, taken at Lepanto, the "Renegada," the crew, formed of one hundred captive Turks, had risen, killed four soldiers on guard and a boatswain, and had fled with the galley. Crimson with rage, D. John jumped up, leaving his cup of wine half drunk, and ordered the captain to go before him to the mole to warn the galley "Real" that he was at once setting out to pursue the fugitives. In vain Doña Ana begged him not to go, but to send one of the 160 galleys anchored in the port. D. John answered her that it would all be the work of a moment, and that in less than three hours he would return to finish his half-drunk cup. The wilful and tyrannical woman insisted with tears, wishing to bend him to her caprice and menacing him with a cessation of her favours if he refused her. But without saying more D. John dashed into the street, preceded by two pages with torches, calling out to all the soldiers he met on the way, "Quick! Soldiers! Quick! They have taken a galley from us."

He only met a dozen foot soldiers and one sergeant, Rivera, and with them went to the mole, jumped on the "Real," and left the port. The night was dark and the sea rough, and the "Real" flew along, with her lanterns unlighted, impelled by the rowers, who were encouraged by the great rewards offered by D. John.

They overtook the "Renegada" off the entrance of Capri. Seeing the "Real" suddenly appear and deeming it an ordinary galley, the crew prepared to defend themselves; but when they recognised the ship, fear paralysed the fugitives and they did not dare to do so, which explains how fourteen men took a ship on which were a hundred by boarding her; they killed the Turks, overcoming and binding those who survived and took them back to Naples. A little before dawn D. John disembarked in the port, and once more turned his steps to the palace of Doña Ana. He found it all open and lighted up, as if he were expected; but not a single living soul did he see in it; astonished, he reached the dining-room, and there noticed, to his surprise, that the table was cleared, and on it a small, black velvet cloth; at the corners were four silver candlesticks, in which lighted tapers were burning, and in the centre a small golden salver with the half-emptied cup, as D. John had left it. D. John understood that the proud Doña Ana wished