The Ambassador bowed again. “I have come upon the strange business of the arrest of the Chevalier de Guise, sire,” he said, and paused as though he hardly knew how to proceed.
Philip waved one hand slightly. “Take your time, señor,” he said kindly. “I perceive that you are troubled. You may trust me with your whole mind.”
This was to set the Ambassador at his ease. De Lauvinière, knowing the King of old, inclined his head with a slightly ironic smile. The irony went unnoticed. “Sire, the Chevalier has sent, as a subject of France, to claim my protection,” he said bluntly. “I am indeed troubled. I have to understand that he has been arrested on suspicion of being no less a person than Sir Nicholas Beauvallet, the sea-robber. My first impulse, sire, was to laugh at a charge so absurd.”
Philip put his fingertips together, and over them watched the Ambassador. “Continue, señor.”
“The Chevalier, sire, very naturally denies this. His papers are in order; I cannot find from anything that I hear that there is any other proof to substantiate the charge than Don Maxia de Perinat’s word. I have seen Don Maxia, sire, and I must humbly confess that although he speaks as a man altogether convinced, I cannot deem his conviction to be sufficient evidence against the Chevalier. Moreover, sire, it appears that a certain lady who was taken prisoner by this same Beauvallet not so many months ago utterly denies that this man is he.”
“I had not supposed it possible, señor, that El Beauvallet could be in Spain,” said Philip calmly. “You come to request his release.”
The Ambassador hesitated. “Sire, this is a very strange, a very difficult matter,” he said. “It is no part of my desire to act hastily in it.”
“Rest assured, señor, we shall do nothing without careful consideration,” Philip said. “Do you identify the Chevalier?”
Again there was a momentary hesitation. “I cannot do that, sire. I am not overfamiliar with the members of the house of Guise; I have never, to my knowledge, met this man. But from what I know of the family I did from the first moment of seeing him suspect that this man might not be what he claimed to be. It is in my mind that the Chevalier de Guise should be a younger man than this, nor can I trace any resemblance to the Guises in his countenance.”
Philip weighed that. “It might thus chance, señor,” he said.
“Certainly, sire. I may well be mistaken. But upon my first meeting with him I wrote into France to discover more of him. The answer to my letter must be awaited before I can state whether this man is the Chevalier or whether he is not. I have come here today, sire, to request you, very humbly, to be patient a few weeks, to hold your hand, in effect, until I receive the answer to my letter.”
Philip nodded slowly. “We shall do nothing unadvisedly,” he said. “We must think on this. You shall hear more of our decision, señor. Be sure we should be loth to proceed against a subject of our cousin of France.”
“I have to thank your Majesty for your courtesy,” de Lauvinière said, and bowed over the King’s cold hand. He was ushered out of the cabinet, and passed through the antechamber without delay. Perinat tried to stop him, and shot an eager question, but de Lauvinière answered evasively, and passed on.
The King would not see Don Maxia de Perinat. “It does not need for us to listen to Don Maxia,” he said coldly. “He will make his deposition to the Alcalde at a later time. We will give audience to Don Cristobal de Porres.”
Don Cristobal, commander of the Guards of Castile, Governor of the great barracks where Beauvallet was imprisoned, was awaiting the King’s pleasure in the anteroom. He was a man of some forty years of age, dark and tall, with a grave countenance and a thin mouth half concealed by his black mustachio and the pointed beard he wore. He came in very promptly, and stood just inside the door, deeply bowing. “Sire!”
“We have sent for you, señor, to inquire into this matter of your prisoner. I do not immediately understand why the ginetes were called in.”
“The Casa Noveli, sire, is hard by the barracks,” Porres answered. “A gentleman came in hot haste with the news that El Beauvallet was captured, and my lieutenant, Cruza, perhaps acted without due reflection. I have held the man in ward against the hearing of your Majesty’s pleasure.”
Philip seemed to be satisfied, for he said nothing for a moment or two, but gazed with apparent abstraction before him. Presently he brought his eyes back to Porres’ face, and spoke abruptly. “Let search be made in his baggage,” he said. “We shall require you to keep the Chevalier under surveillance, Don Cristobal, until such time as we make known our further pleasure. If he travels with a servant—” he paused. “It might be well to interrogate the man.”
“Sire—!”
Philip waited.
“It was judged expedient, sire, to send early this morning to the inn where the Chevalier lodged. I do not know sire, if this was agreeable to your Majesty, but in consideration—the charge was of such a nature—there was a fear—”
“Compose yourself, señor.”
“In short, sire, acting a little on Don Maxia de Perinat’s advice, I caused search to be made through the Chevalier’s effects, and sent to apprehend the servant, deeming it a measure your Majesty would approve.”
“You acted precipitately,” said Philip. “These things are not done without good advice. Continue.”
“I ask your Majesty’s pardon if I did wrongly. When my men came to the inn they found the—the Chevalier’s baggage strewn about, his chests and strong box broken open and empty. His money was gone, his jewels, a sword of Ferrara make, the best of his dress—in short, sire, a seeming robbery, committed by the servant, who had fled.”
“Who had fled,” repeated the King. “But continue, señor.”
“This we
