'They have sent a messenger to Madrid, Excellency, with the news that the Queen is on the road to Toledo,' said Concepcion.

'It is well,' answered Vincente, with a laugh.

As they journeyed, although it was nearly midnight, there appeared from time to time, and for the most part in the neighbourhood of a village, one who seemed to have been awaiting their pa.s.sage, and immediately set out on foot or horseback by one of the shorter bridle-paths that abound in Spain. No one of these spies escaped the notice of Concepcion, whose training amid the mountains of Andalusia had sharpened his eyesight and added keenness to every sense.

'It is like a cat walking down an alley full of dogs,' he muttered.

At last the lights of Toledo hove in sight, and across the river came the sound of the city clocks tolling the hour.

'Midnight,' said Concha. 'And all respectable folk are in their beds. At night all cats are grey.'

No one heeded him. Estella was sitting upright, bright-eyed and wakeful. The General looked out of the window at every moment.

Across the river they could see lights moving, and many houses that had been illuminated were suddenly dark.

'See,' said the General, leaning out of the window and speaking to Conyngham, 'they have heard the sound of our wheels.'

At the farther end of the Bridge of Alcantara, on the road which now leads to the railway station, two hors.e.m.e.n were stationed, hidden in the shadow of the trees that border the pathway.

'Those should be Guardias Civiles,' said Concepcion, who had studied the ways of those gentry all his life. 'But they are not. They have horses that have never been taught to stand still.'

As he spoke the men vanished, moving noiselessly in the thick dust which lay on the Madrid road.

The General saw them go--and smiled. These men carried word to their fellows in Madrid for the seizure of the little Queen. But before they could reach the capital the Queen Regent herself would be there--a woman in a thousand, of inflexible nerve, of infinite resource.

The carriage rattled over the narrow bridge which rings hollow to the sound of wheels. It pa.s.sed under the gate that Wamba built and up the tree-girt incline to the city. The streets were deserted, and no window showed a light. A watchman in his shelter, at the corner by the synagogue, peered at them over the folds of his cloak, and noting the clank of scabbard against spur, paid no further heed to a traveller who took the road with such outward signs of authority.

'It is still enough--and quiet,' said Concha, looking out.

'As quiet as a watching cat,' replied Vincente.

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CITY OF STRIFE.

'What lot is mine Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow To feel it!'

Through these quiet streets the party clattered noisily enough, for the rain had left the rounded stones slippery, and the horses were too tired for a sure step. There were no lights at the street corners, for all had been extinguished at midnight, and the only glimmer of a lamp that relieved the darkness was shining through the stained-gla.s.s windows of the Cathedral, where the sacred oil burnt night and day.

The Queen was evidently expected at the Casa del Ayuntamiento, for at the approach of the carriage the great doors were thrown open and a number of servants appeared in the patio, which was but dimly lighted. By the General's orders the small body-guard pa.s.sed through the doors, which were then closed, instead of continuing their way to the barracks in the Alcazar.

This Casa del Ayuntamiento stands, as many travellers know, in the Plaza of the same name, and faces the Cathedral, which is without doubt the oldest, as it a.s.suredly is the most beautiful, church in the world. The mansion-house of Toledo, in addition to some palatial halls which are of historic renown, has several suites of rooms used from time to time by great personages pa.s.sing through or visiting the city. The house itself is old, as we esteem age in England, while in comparison to the buildings around it it is modern. Built, however, at a period when beauty of architecture was secondary to power of resistance, the palace is strong enough, and General Vincente smiled happily as the great doors were closed. He was the last to look out into the streets and across the little Plaza del Ayuntamiento, which was deserted and looked peaceful enough in the light of a waning moon.

The carriage door was opened by a lacquey, and Conyngham gave Estella his hand. All the servants bowed as she pa.s.sed up the stairs, her face screened by the folds of her white mantilla. There was a queer hush in this great house, and in the manner of the servants. The cathedral clock rang out the half-hour. The General led the way to the room on the first floor that overlooks the Plaza del Ayuntamiento. It is a vast apartment, hung with tapestries and pictures such as men travel many miles to see. The windows, which are large in proportion to the height of the room, open upon a stone balcony, which runs the length of the house and looks down upon the Plaza and across this to the great facade of the Cathedral.

Candles, hurriedly lighted, made the room into a very desert of shadows. At the far end, a table was spread with cold meats and lighted by high silver candelabra.

'Ah!' said Concha, going towards the supper-table.

Estella turned, and for the first time met Conyngham's eyes. His face startled her. It was so grave.

'Were you hurt?' she asked sharply.

'Not this time, senorita.'

Then she turned with a sudden laugh towards her father. 'Did I play my part well?' she asked.

'Yes, my child.' And even he was grave.

'Unless I am mistaken,' he continued, glancing at the shuttered windows, 'we have only begun our task.' He was reading, as he spoke, some despatches which a servant had handed to him.

'There is one advantage in a soldier's life,' he said, smiling at Conyngham, 'which is not, I think, sufficiently recognised--namely, that one's duty is so often clearly defined. At the present moment it is a question of keeping up the deception we have practised upon these good people of Toledo sufficiently long to enable the Queen Regent to reach Madrid. In order to make certain of this we must lead the people to understand that the Queen is in this house until, at least, daylight. Given so much advantage, I think that her Majesty can reach the capital an hour before any messenger from Toledo. Two hors.e.m.e.n quitted the Bridge of Alcantara as we crossed it, riding towards Madrid; but they will not reach the capital--I have seen to that.'

He paused and walked to one of the long windows, which he opened.

The outer shutters remained closed, and he did not unbar them, but stood listening.

'All is still as yet,' he said, returning to the table, where Father Concha was philosophically cutting up a cold chicken. 'That is a good idea of yours,' he said. 'We may all require our full forces of mind and body before the dawn.'

He drew forward a chair, and Estella, obeying his gesture, sat down and so far controlled her feelings as to eat a little.

'Do queens always feed on old birds such as this?' asked Concha discontentedly; and Vincente, spreading out his napkin, laughed with gay good humour.

'Before the dawn,' he said to Conyngham, 'we may all be great men, and the good Concha here on the high road to a bishopric.'

'He would rather be in bed,' muttered the priest, with his mouth full.

It was a queer scene, such as we only act in real life. The vast room, with its gorgeous hangings, the flickering candles, the table spread with delicacies, and the strange party seated at it--Concha eating steadily, the General looking round with his domesticated little smile, Estella with a new light in her eyes and a new happiness on her face, Conyngham, a giant among these southerners, in his dust-laden uniform--all made up a picture that none forgot.

'They will probably attack this place,' said the General, pouring out a gla.s.s of wine; 'but the house is a strong one. I cannot rely on the regiments stationed at Toledo, and have sent to Madrid for cavalry. There is nothing like cavalry--in the streets. We can stand a siege--till the dawn.'

He turned, looking over his shoulder towards the door; for he had heard a footstep unnoticed by the others. It was Concepcion Vara who came into the room, coatless, his face grey with dust, adding a startling and picturesque incongruity to the scene.

'Pardon, Excellency,' he said, with that easy grasp of the situation which always made an utterly unabashed smuggler of him, 'but there is one in the house whom I think his Excellency should speak with.'

'Ah!'

'The Senorita Barenna.'

The General rose from the table.

'How did she get in here?' he asked sharply.

'By the side door in the Calle de la Ciudad. The keeper of that door, Excellency, is a mule. The senorita forced him to admit her.

The s.e.x can do so much,' he added, with a tolerant shrug of the shoulders.

'And the other--this Larralde?'

Concepcion raised his hand with outspread fingers, and shook it slowly from side to side from the wrist, with the palm turned towards his interlocutor--a gesture which seemed to indicate that the subject was an unpleasant, almost an indelicate, one.