The Constant Prince Read online

"in such matters; and he hasstudied so thoroughly the courses of the heavens, and can so well judgeof fair or foul weather, he should have been a sailor born. Then Ipurpose to bring some of my natives hither, that they may return totheir own country good Christians and civilised men. They trust mysailors as if they were messengers from Heaven. See what a power it isfor good. Whole islands--nay, Pedro, I sometimes think wholecontinents, may owe to us their salvation."

  So spoke the great Enrique of Avis, in the young days of the modernworld, he who was at once a great soldier and a devoted son of theChurch, the priestly knight of the Middle Ages, who helped the newlearning many miles on her way, to whom astronomy and physical sciencebegan to open their treasures; while in his breast burnt the same fireof adventure, the same longing for discovery, that in our day haspenetrated Arctic seas and African deserts, fulfilling the command toreplenish the earth and subdue it. But, prince though he was, Enriquemet with scant sympathy beyond the limits of his family, in designswhich the world had not yet learnt to understand. And little did hedream of how much misery Christian men would bring to those unknownlands, after which his heart hungered; or that his earnest desire tobring his islanders to a sight of the blessings of Christianity shouldbe quoted as a precedent and justification for all the horrors of theslave trade.

  Pedro had enough of the same power to understand his efforts, and he wasbeginning a sympathetic reply, when one of Fernando's attendants cametowards them telling him that Sir Walter Northberry desired to speakwith him.

  "Ask him to come hither," said Fernando; and even as he spoke,Northberry, with a pale and disturbed countenance, came hurriedlytowards the brothers.

  "Alas! my lord!" he said, with a hasty reverence, "I have the worst ofill news. I am a miserable man. The ship in which my little daughterssailed him been attacked by Moorish pirates. There was a vessel boundfrom France to Lisbon came to the rescue, and beat them off; but oh, thesaints pity us! the cursed villains carried with them my little Kate.Woe's me that ever I let them go."

  Northberry covered his face with his hands, unable to repress hisdespairing grief; while the princes pressed round him, full of sympathyand indignation.

  Fernando took his hand, and drew him to a seat, saying eagerly--

  "Everything is at your command. What can be done? Have you any due?"

  "Surely," said Duarte, "a sufficient ransom will open the prison gates."

  "Horrible degradation!" cried Enrique and Fernando in a breath.

  "As to that, my good lords," said Northberry, "I care not fordegradation, if I can but get my poor little maid back. Better tempestand shipwreck. But this French vessel that brought me the news saidthat the attack was made at night by a superior force, and that theywere gone in the morning beyond pursuit. So Dom Manuel sent thewretched news back, and sailed as fast as might be for England, lestNella should share her sister's fate. Alas! alas!"

  "And _this_!" cried Fernando, with flashing eyes, "_this_ is what wesuffer on our shores--we! princes, knights, Christians--shame--shameupon us! Better spend the last coin in our treasury--shed the last dropof our blood--better die among nations, lose all--everything--than haveit so! What! we hold our kingdom undisturbed by a false peace withfriends such as these! Let it go, but let us drive them from Portuguesewaters--from Christian soil. I will endure it no longer; I will do itsingle-handed."

  Fernando stood with lifted hand and face on fire, long suppressedpassion giving startling effect to his words; but suddenly his facepaled and he dropped back on his seat.

  "I--I can do nothing," he said, in a voice of inexpressible melancholy.

  Enrique leaned over him, and put his arm round him, as if he had beenstill the little brother, whose excitement he had soothed so often inearly years.

  "Everything in our power shall be done, good Sir Walter," said Duarte,earnestly.

  "Indeed, my lord, I doubt it not," said Northberry. "I am sorry so togrieve Dom Fernando."

  Fernando looked up.

  "Duarte, I meant to reproach no one," he said, humbly. "My friend, Ican do little for you, or any one, but pray; I will go and do that."

  "My lord," said Sir Walter, kissing his hand, "such prayers as yoursmust be answered."

  Fernando shook his head sadly. He blamed himself for the outburst offeeling which had seemed to reproach his brothers for failing in a dutywhich he could not even attempt, and for long hours that night he kneltin his private chapel, and prayed that at whatever cost to himself thepower of the Moor might be lessened and the little captive restoredunharmed to her friends.

  Fernando often pursued his devotions at risk to his own health, the careof which did not present itself to him as a duty in the way it would nowto an equally conscientious person; and perhaps, had his austeritiesbeen fewer, he would have been better able to follow the wish of hisheart. But he followed the light given him, and his prayers in due timebore fruit. But not immediately; no tidings of Katharine Northberrycame to Lisbon; the sorrow narrowed itself to one sore spot in herfather's heart, while a long and dangerous attack of illness forFernando followed close on Dom Pedro's wedding.

  Enrique put aside his pressing schemes to stay with him and to nursehim, and as he grew better to understand the deep desire of Fernando'sheart, he resolved that before every other object he would devotehimself to carry it out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  TWO LIVES.

  "And like a double cherry--seeming parted."

  The clear light of an English spring evening was shining down on thegrey walls of the convent of Saint Mary, streaming through the goldengreen of the neighbouring wood, showing the towers of Northberry ManorHouse through the trees, and sparkling on the blue strip of sea behindthem. Far on either side stretched wood and forest, hitherto untouchedby the hand of man, while from the pleasant fields cultivated round theconvent and Manor House green glades and glens wound away into theforest, where the hunter might sound his horn, the outlaw take refuge,where wild game of all kinds still dwelt without chance of extinction,and where fairy rings were found on the grass, strange sights seen, andstrange sounds heard beyond the chime of the church bells of Northberry.The lords of the manor rode through the rough roads now and again onvisits to their neighbours, or for assize meetings at the nearest town;the convent priests, who also served the little village church, wentthrough the wood now and then at the summons of the Bishop; but thevillagers who clustered round the convent and manor walls were afraid ofthe forest, and Eleanor Northberry had never passed through it since shehad been brought there, six years before, a solitary and frightenedchild, pining for the little twin sister who had been torn from herside. She had been tenderly received and cherished by her cousins, andwith their daughter Adela was placed at the convent, where she learnt toread and to sing, to sew and to embroider, going home occasionally toNorthberry Manor, and growing so much into a part of the family, thatSir Edward Northberry contemplated finding a husband for her in due timeamong the gallant squires of Devon, and never sending her back again tothe "foreign parts," which, spite of his connection with Lisbon, heregarded as peopled by a mixture of Frenchmen and Moors.

  Within the convent precincts was a garden surrounded by high old walls,through one of which a gate led into the little burial-ground where theconvent chapel stood. There was a sun-dial in the midst of the garden,on the step of which Eleanor--or as she loved better to be called,Nella--Northberry sat making wreaths from a great heap of white hawthornon the grass beside her. The garden was neatly kept, with a plentifulsupply of herbs useful for cooking or for medicine, and a few springflowers, such as bluebells or lilies of the valley, and in the centre ofthe turf an apple-tree in full blossom; there were cherries and plums inplenty, with the fruit just setting among their green leaves. A largeoblong pond full of fish lay across the bottom of the garden. The birdssang sweetly; a family of robin-redbreasts were making their firstattempts at flying from the low branches of the apple-trees. There wasa low sound of chanting from the chapel, where
the nuns were practisingthe services for the approaching festival of Whitsuntide. All was fullof peace and calm, brightened by the fresh and hopeful spring-time.

  Nella finished her long white garland, and laid it at her feet. Sheclasped her hands on her knees, and watched the little snowy clouds asthey came floating from behind the cherry-trees across the sky. She wasvery simply dressed in a grey frock cut square at her neck, and finishedwith a white frill; but she was a tall and beautiful girl, almost awoman in height, with her long brown hair drawn back from a broad fairbrow, a frank and simple countenance, and eyes at once innocent andfearless. She was almost too much for the nuns sometimes, with her wildspirits and dauntless gaiety, delighting in woodland scrambles andhairbreadth escapes. But she was loving and loyal-hearted, and norebel, though a little difficult of