The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (45 page)

After these first moments of joy had passed, I asked what the age of the Duke of Sidonia was.

‘He is five years younger than me, that is to say thirty-five,' said my father. ‘But,' he added, ‘his is one of those faces that look young until well on in years.'

I was of an age at which young girls have not yet thought about men's ages. A boy who, like me, was only fourteen years old would have seemed a mere child unworthy of my attention. My father did not seem old to me, and the duke, being younger than my father,
seemed to me necessarily to be a young man. That was the idea I then formed and it helped subsequently to decide my fate.

Then I asked what the murders were of which the duke had spoken.

At this my father grew very grave, thought for a short while, and then said:

‘My dear Leonor, those events are closely related to the separation which you witnessed between your mother and me. I should perhaps not tell you about it, but sooner or later your curiosity might lead you to speculate. Rather than let your thoughts brood on a matter which is as delicate as it is distressing, I prefer to tell you about it myself.'

After this preamble my father told me the story of his life, beginning as follows:

   THE MARQUÉS DE VAL FLORIDA'S STORY   

You know that your mother was the last member of the house of Astorgas. That house and the house of Val Florida are the most ancient houses in Asturias. It was by the general wish of the province that I was betrothed to Señora de Astorgas. We had accustomed ourselves early to the idea and the feelings we had formed for one another were such as to ensure a happy marriage. Circumstances delayed our union, however, and I only married when I reached the age of twenty-five.

Six weeks after our wedding I told my wife that as all my ancestors had embraced the profession of arms I believed myself obliged by honour to follow their example, and, besides, there were many garrisons in Spain where we could pass the time more agreeably than in Asturias. Señora de Val Florida replied that she would always be at one with me in matters in which I might think my honour to be involved. So it was decided that I should serve. I wrote to the court and obtained a company of horse in the regiment of Medina Sidonia; it was garrisoned at Barcelona, where you were born.

War broke out. We were sent to Portugal where we were to join up with the army of Don Sancho de Saavedra. This general opened hostilities at the famous skirmish of Vila Marga. Our regiment, at that
time the strongest in the army, was ordered to wipe out the English troops who formed the enemy's left wing. Twice we threw ourselves at them without success, and were preparing to attack for a third time when an unknown officer appeared before us. He was in the first flush of youth and dressed in shining armour. ‘Follow me!' he said. ‘I am your colonel, the Duke of Sidonia.'

Indeed, he did well to identify himself because otherwise we might have taken him for the angel of battles or some other prince of the celestial host. His appearance really did have something divine about it.

This time the English troops were routed and the triumph of the day belonged to our regiment. I had reason to believe that next to the duke it was I who distinguished himself most by his actions. At least I had a flattering indication that this was so, in that my illustrious colonel did me the honour of asking me to be his friend.

It was no vain compliment on his part. We became real friends, without this friendship in the duke's case taking on any sign of patronage or in mine any hint of inferiority. Spaniards are criticized for a sort of gravity that they bring to their manner of behaviour, but it is by avoiding familiarity that we are able to be proud without arrogance, and combine deference with nobility.

After the victory of Vila Marga there were several promotions. The duke was made a general; I was promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel and to be first adjutant to the general. We were given the dangerous mission of stopping the enemy crossing the Douro river. The duke took up a position which gave him a fair advantage and held it for a long time. Eventually the whole English army advanced towards us. But even this overwhelming superiority did not cause us to retreat. There was a terrible carnage which would have ended with our being wiped out if a certain van Berg, the commander of the Walloon companies, had not unexpectedly come to our aid with three thousand men. He performed remarkable feats of bravery and not only averted the danger but left us masters of the field. In spite of that, we soon fell back to join the main body of the army.

When we, together with the Walloons, struck camp, the duke approached me and said, ‘My dear Val Florida, the most appropriate
number for a friendship is, I know, the number two. It cannot be exceeded without breaking its sacred laws, yet I think that the outstanding service which van Berg has done us justifies an exception being made. We owe him, I think, the offer of both our friendships, which would make him a third in the bond that unites us.'

I agreed with the duke, who then went to see van Berg and offered him friendship with a gravity which reflected the importance he attached to the title of friend. Van Berg seemed taken aback by this.

‘Señor duque,' he said, ‘Your Excellency does me great honour, but I am in the habit of getting drunk most days. Whenever by chance I am not drunk, I gamble as heavily as I can. If Your Excellency hasn't the same habits I don't believe that our bond of friendship would last very long.'

This reply at first took the duke aback, then it made him laugh. He assured van Berg of his complete esteem and promised to use his influence at court to procure for him a handsome reward. But van Berg wanted recompense in the form of money. The duke left for Madrid and obtained for our rescuer the barony of Deulen in the proximity of Malines. Van Berg sold it that very day to Walter van Dyck, a citizen of Amsterdam and a victualler of the army.

So it was that everyone prepared to spend the winter in Coimbra, one of the most important cities of Portugal. Señora de Val Florida came and joined me there. She enjoyed polite society and I willingly opened my house to the highest ranking officers of the army, but the duke and I took little part in the tumultuous social life. All our moments were filled with serious pursuits. Virtue was the idol of the young Duke of Sidonia. The public good was his dream. We made a special study of Spain's constitution, forming many plans for her future prosperity. To make her people good, we first decided to make them love virtue and then abandon their self-interest, which seemed to us a very easy task. We also wanted to revive the old chivalric spirit. A Spaniard, we thought, must be as faithful to his wife as to his king, and everyone must have a brother-in-arms. We were not far from thinking that one day the world would talk about our friendship, and that through our example men of honour forming similar unions would in future find the paths of virtue less arduous and more secure.

My dear Leonor, I would feel ashamed to tell you about such absurdities but it has long been observed that young gentlemen who have strayed into excessive zeal may in the fullness of time become great and valuable persons. On the other hand, youthful Catos, once age has cooled their ardour, can never rise above the strict calculations of self-interest. Their minds are circumscribed by their souls, which makes them wholly incapable of those thoughts which constitute the statesman or the man who serves his fellow-men. This rule admits few exceptions.

Thus, by giving our imagination free rein to pursue its virtuous objects, the duke and I hoped to bring about in Spain the reign of Saturn and Rhea. Meanwhile, however, van Berg was actually bringing back the age of gold. He had sold his barony of Deulen and had received eight hundred thousand livres in ready money for it. Then he had declared and sworn on his word of honour not only to spend all his money during the two months of our winter quarters but also to run up debts of a hundred thousand francs. Our prodigal Fleming then found that to keep his word he had to spend about one thousand four hundred pistoles a day, which wasn't all that easy in a city like Coimbra. He was afraid that he had given his word incautiously. It was suggested to him that he could use part of his money to help the poor and bring people happiness, but van Berg rejected this idea, saying that he had sworn to spend the money, not give it away. It was a point of honour with him not to use it on benefactions. Gambling didn't even count because he had the chance of winning, and losing money was not the same as spending it.

This cruel dilemma seemed to upset van Berg. For several days he seemed preoccupied. Finally he discovered a way which, so it seemed to him, did not compromise his honour. He brought together all the available cooks, musicians, actors and others who made their living from pleasurable pursuits. He gave feasts in the morning and put on plays in the evening. Fairs were held in front of his house, and if in spite of all his efforts, the one thousand four hundred pistoles had not been spent, he threw the rest out of the window, declaring that such an act was not against the laws of prodigality.

As soon as van Berg had managed in this way to appease his
conscience, he recovered all his cheerfulness. He had a fund of native wit and used any amount of it to defend his bizarre behaviour, which was attacked from all quarters. This defence, which he often repeated, lent his conversation an air of brilliance which distinguished it from that of us Spaniards, who were all very reserved and grave.

Van Berg often visited me together with all the other high-ranking officers. He also came at times when I was not there. I knew this and did not take offence at it. I thought that his excessive self-confidence led him to believe that he was welcome everywhere at any time of day. The general public were more clear-sighted than I, and it was not long before rumours began to circulate which were injurious to my honour. I did not know of them but the duke had been told. He knew how much I was attached to my wife, and his friendship for me made him suffer vicariously in my place.

One morning the duke went to see Señora de Val Florida, threw himself at her knees and begged her to remember her duty and to refuse to receive van Berg at moments when she was alone. I don't know exactly what reply he received but van Berg dropped by that morning and no doubt was told of the exhortations to virtue which Señora de Val Florida had been given. The duke went to see van Berg, intending to speak to him in the same way and to bring him back to a more virtuous frame of mind. He found that he was out and came back after dinner. Van Berg's rooms were filled with visitors but van Berg himself was alone, sitting at a gaming-table, shaking dice in a cup. I was there too, talking to young Fonseca, the duke's brother-in-law and the much-adored husband of a sister of whom the duke was very fond.

Sidonia accosted van Berg in a friendly way and asked him with a laugh how his spending was going.

Van Berg gave him a look of anger and said, ‘I spend my money to receive friends, not dishonourable people who interfere in affairs which do not concern them.'

Some of those present heard this exchange.

‘Is it I,' said the duke, ‘who is being called dishonourable? Van Berg, take back what you have said.'

‘I don't take anything back,' said van Berg.

The duke knelt and said, ‘Van Berg, you did me a very great service. Why do you want now to deprive me of my honour? I beg you, recognize me as a man of honour.'

Van Berg uttered the word ‘coward'.

The duke rose calmly, drew his dagger from his belt, put it on the table and said, ‘This affair cannot be settled by an ordinary duel. One of us must die, the sooner the better. We will each throw the dice in turn. The one who obtains the higher score will take up the dagger and plunge it into the heart of the other.'

‘Excellent!' exclaimed van Berg. ‘Now that's what I call a serious gamble; but I swear that if I win I shall not spare Your Excellency.'

Those looking on were transfixed with terror.

Van Berg picked up the cup and threw two twos. ‘The devil!' he cried. ‘It seems that I am out of luck.'