Outside, under the tree, the figures of the men-at-arms
were moving. Expeditiously, and with indifference,
they went about the preparations for the task entrusted
to them.
The Cardinal writhed, and fought for breath.
“Lord Prince, this must not be!” He stretched
forth supplicating hands. “Lord Prince,
you must release my nephews.”
“Lord Cardinal, you must absolve my people.”
“If . . . if you will first make submission.
My duty . . . to the Holy See . . . Oh God!
Will nothing move you?”
“When they have been hanged you will understand,
and out of your own affliction learn compassion.”
The Infante’s voice was so cold, his mien so
resolute that the legate despaired of conquering his
purpose. Abruptly he capitulated, even as the
halters went about the necks of his two cherished lads.
“Stop!” he screamed. “Bid them
stop! The curse shall be lifted.”
Affonso Henriques opened the window with a leisureliness
which to the legate seemed to belong to the realm
of nightmare.
“Wait yet a moment,” the Infante called
to those outside, about whom by now a little knot
of awe-stricken villagers had gathered. Then
he turned again to Cardinal Corrado, who had sunk to
his chair like a man exhausted, and sat now panting,
his elbows on the table, his head in his hands.
“Here,” said the prince, “are the
terms upon which you may have their lives: Complete
absolution, and Apostolic benediction for my people
and myself this very night, I on my side making submission
to the Holy Father’s will to the extent of releasing
my mother from duress, with the condition that she
leaves Portugal at once and does not return.
As for the banished bishop and his successor, matters
must remain as they are; but you can satisfy your conscience
on that score by yourself confirming the appointment
of Don Zuleyman. Come, my lord, I am being generous,
I think. In the enlargement of my mother I afford
you the means of satisfying Rome. If you have
learnt your lesson from what I here proposed, your
conscience should satisfy you of the rest.”
“Be it so,” the Cardinal answered hoarsely.
“I will return with you to Coimbra and do your
will.”
Thereupon, without any tinge of mockery, but in completest
sincerity in token that the feud between them was now
completely healed, Affonso Henriques went down upon
his knees, like the true and humble son of Holy Church
he accounted himself, to ask a blessing at the Cardinal’s
hands.
Boris Godunov and the Pretended Son of Ivan the Terrible
The news of it first reached him whilst he sat at
supper in the great hall of his palace in the Kremlin.
It came at a time when already there was enough to
distract his mind; for although the table before him
was spread and equipped as became an emperor’s,
the gaunt spectre of famine stalked outside in the
streets of Moscow, and men and women were so reduced
by it that cannibalism was alleged to be breaking
out amongst them.
