"I sent for thee to confess him," said Manfred, sternly; "not to plead for him. Thou didst first incense me against him; his blood be upon thy head."
"It will, it will!" said the good man, in an agony of sorrow. "Thou and I must never hope to go where this blessed youth is going."
"Dispatch," said Manfred; "I am no more to be moved by the whining of priests than by the shrieks of women."
"What!" said the youth; "is it possible that my fate could have occasioned what I heard? Is the princess, then, again in thy power?"
"Thou dost but remember me of my wrath," said Manfred; "prepare thee, for this moment is thy last."
The youth, who felt his indignation rise, and who was touched with the sorrow which he saw he had infused into all the spectators, as well as into the friar, suppressed his emotions, and putting off his doublet, and unb.u.t.toning his collar, knelt down to his prayers. As he stooped, his shirt slipped down below his shoulder, and discovered the mark of a b.l.o.o.d.y arrow.
"Gracious Heaven!" cried the holy man, starting, "what do I see? It is my child, my Theodore!"
The pa.s.sions that ensued must be conceived; they cannot be painted. The tears of the a.s.sistants were suspended by wonder, rather than stopped by joy. They seemed to inquire into the eyes of their lord what they ought to feel. Surprise, doubt, tenderness, respect, succeeded each other in the countenance of the youth. He received with modest submission the effusion of the old man"s tears and embraces; yet, afraid of giving a loose to hope, and suspecting, from what had pa.s.sed, the inflexibility of Manfred"s temper, he cast a glance towards the prince, as if to say, Canst thou be unmoved at such a scene as this?
Manfred"s heart was capable of being touched. He forgot his anger in his astonishment; yet his pride forbade his owning himself affected. He even doubted whether this discovery was not a contrivance of the friar to save the youth. "What may this mean?" said he; "how can he be thy son?
Is it consistent with thy profession or reputed sanct.i.ty to avow a peasant"s offspring for the fruit of thy irregular amours?"
"Oh G.o.d!" said the holy man, "dost thou question his being mine? Could I feel the anguish I do, if I were not his father? Spare him, good prince!
spare him! and revile me as thou pleasest."
"Spare him! spare him!" cried the attendants, "for this good man"s sake."
"Peace!" said Manfred, sternly; "I must know, ere I am disposed to pardon. A saint"s b.a.s.t.a.r.d may be no saint himself."
"Injurious lord!" said Theodore; "add not insult to cruelty. If I am this venerable man"s son, though no prince, as thou art, know, the blood that flows in my veins----"
"Yes," said the friar, interrupting him, "his blood is n.o.ble; nor is he that abject thing, my lord, you speak him. He is my lawful son; and Sicily can boast of few houses more ancient than that of Falconara--but, alas! my lord, what is blood? what is n.o.bility? We are all reptiles, miserable, sinful creatures. It is piety alone that can distinguish us from the dust whence we sprung, and whither we must return."
"Truce to your sermon," said Manfred; "you forget you are no longer Friar Jerome, but the Count of Falconara. Let me know your history: you will have time enough to moralize hereafter, if you should not happen to obtain the grace of that st.u.r.dy criminal there."
"Mother of G.o.d!" said the friar, "is it possible my lord can refuse a father the life of his only, his long-lost child? Trample me, my lord, scorn, afflict me, accept my life for his, but spare my son!"
"Thou canst feel, then," said Manfred, "what it is to lose an only son!
A little hour ago thou didst preach up resignation to me: _my_ house, if fate so pleased, must perish--but the Count of Falconara----"
"Alas! my lord," said Jerome, "I confess I have offended; but aggravate not an old man"s sufferings. I boast not of my family, nor think of such vanities; it is nature that pleads for this boy; it is the memory of the dear woman that bore him--is she, Theodore, is she dead?"
"Her soul has long been with the blessed," said Theodore.
"Oh! how?" cried Jerome; "tell me--no--she is happy! Thou art all my care now. Most dread lord! will you--will you grant me my poor boy"s life?"
"Return to thy convent," answered Manfred; "conduct the princess. .h.i.ther; obey me in what else thou knowest, and I promise thee the life of thy son."
"Oh, my lord!" said Jerome, "is my honesty the price I must pay for this dear youth"s safety?"
"For me!" cried Theodore; "let me die a thousand deaths, rather than stain thy conscience. What is it the tyrant would exact of thee? Is the princess still safe from his power? Protect her, thou venerable old man, and let all the weight of his wrath fall on me."
Jerome endeavoured to check the impetuosity of the youth; and ere Manfred could reply, the trampling of horses was heard, and a brazen trumpet, which hung without the gate of the castle, was suddenly sounded. At the same instant the sable plumes on the enchanted helmet, which still remained at the other end of the court, were tempestuously agitated, and nodded thrice, as if bowed by some invisible wearer.
CHAPTER III
Manfred"s heart misgave him when he beheld the plumage on the miraculous casque shaken in concert with the sounding of the brazen trumpet.
"Father," said he to Jerome, whom he now ceased to treat as Count of Falconara, "what mean these portents? If I have offended"--the plumes were shaken with greater violence than before. "Unhappy prince that I am!" cried Manfred. "Holy father, will you not a.s.sist me with your prayers?"
"My lord," replied Jerome, "Heaven is no doubt displeased with your mockery of its servants. Submit yourself to the Church, and cease to persecute her ministers. Dismiss this innocent youth, and learn to respect the holy character I wear: Heaven will not be trifled with. You see"--the trumpet sounded again.
"I acknowledge I have been too hasty," said Manfred. "Father, do you go to the wicket, and demand who is at the gate."
"Do you grant me the life of Theodore?" replied the friar.
"I do," said Manfred; "but inquire who is without."
Jerome, falling on the neck of his son, discharged a flood of tears, that spoke the fullness of his soul.
"You promised to go to the gate," said Manfred.
"I thought," replied the friar, "your highness would excuse my thanking you first in this tribute of my heart."
"Go, dearest sir," said Theodore, "obey the prince; I do not deserve that you should delay his satisfaction for me."
Jerome, inquiring who was without, was answered, "A herald."
"From whom?" said he.
"From the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre," said the herald; "and I must speak with the usurper of Otranto."
Jerome returned to the prince, and did not fail to repeat the message in the very words it had been uttered. The first sounds struck Manfred with terror; but when he heard himself styled usurper, his rage rekindled, and all his courage revived.
"Usurper!--insolent villain!" cried he; "who dares to question my t.i.tle?
Retire, father; this is no business for monks: I will meet this presumptuous man myself. Go to your convent, and prepare the princess"s return; your son shall be a hostage for your fidelity: his life depends on your obedience."
"Good Heaven! my lord," cried Jerome, "your highness did but this instant freely pardon my child. Have you so soon forgot the interposition of Heaven?"
"Heaven," replied Manfred, "does not send heralds to question the t.i.tle of a lawful prince. I doubt whether it even notifies its will through friars; but that is your affair, not mine. At present you know my pleasure; and it is not a saucy herald that shall save your son, if you do not return with the princess."
It was in vain for the holy man to reply. Manfred commanded him to be conducted to the postern gate, and shut out from the castle; and he ordered some of his attendants to carry Theodore to the top of the Black Tower, and guard him strictly, scarce permitting the father and son to exchange a hasty embrace at parting. He then withdrew to the hall, and seating himself in princely state, ordered the herald to be admitted to his presence.
"Well, thou insolent!" said the prince, "what wouldst thou with me?"
"I come," replied he, "to thee, Manfred, usurper of the princ.i.p.ality of Otranto, from the renowned and invincible knight, the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre: in the name of his lord, Frederic Marquis of Vicenza, he demands the Lady Isabella, daughter of that prince, whom thou hast basely and traitorously got into thy power, by bribing her false guardians during his absence; and he requires thee to resign the princ.i.p.ality of Otranto, which thou hast usurped from the said Lord Frederic, the nearest of blood to the last rightful lord, Alfonso the Good. If thou dost not instantly comply with these just demands, he defies thee to single combat to the last extremity." And so saying the herald cast down his warder.
"And where is this braggart who sends thee?" said Manfred.
"At the distance of a league," said the herald: "he comes to make good his lord"s claim against thee, as he is a true knight, and thou an usurper and ravisher."