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Thence, by the favour of the Queen-mother, he had gone as squire to Alphonso's court of Castile, where the Spanish doctors had opened windows for him into the clear dry wisdom of the Saracens. He had travelled with an embassy to the Emperor, and in Sicily had talked with the learned Arabs who clustered around the fantastic Frederick.
Griffeth listened, and a strange look crept into his face. His cheek flushed, and his breath came thick and fast. He knew Alphonso's motive in suggesting this change of identity. The lads, so closely drawn together in bonds of more than brotherly love, had not opened to each other their innermost souls for nought.
If there was something bitter in having his father's rightful inheritance granted to him as something of a boon, at least there was much to sweeten the draught in the kindly and gracious bearing of the king, and in Alphonso's friendly words and looks.
A variation of the lines on Alphonso's capture of the city in 1442: "And then he looked on Naples, that great city of the sea, 'O city, saith the King, 'how great hath been thy cost, For thee I twenty years my fairest years have lost." Lockhart's Spanish Ballads, "The King of Arragon." January 5. Went by invitation to wait upon a priest, who almost rivals my fighting bishop of Malta.
I replied: I came hither, took my lodgings at an inn. My Lord seeks me last night. "I begin in the tone you may suppose. Pardieu! he is clever, milord! He shows me a letter from the Prince Von , Alphonse's recall, my own banishment. He places before me, but with admirable suavity, the option of beggary and ruin, or an honourable claim on Alphonso's gratitude.
Sweet father, I have not asked many boons of thee. Grant me this one, I pray thee, for my heart is verily set on it." There was something in this appeal, something in the look upon Alphonso's face, something in the very words he had used, that made it impossible to his father to refuse him.
Under different auspices, my paternal affection might have developed rapidly; but really, during the first few weeks of Moses Alphonso's existence, our intercourse was so exceedingly limited I scarcely knew him. Any intrusion within his little horizon of flannel or atmosphere of paregoric was so severe a tax on the nerves of Mrs.
Wendot, bewildered and astonished and ashamed, could scarce believe his senses, and asked, with a proud independence which raised a smile in Alphonso's eyes, that he might be led out to speedy death the death by the headsman's axe, which was all he had now to hope for.
And although he listened to Alphonso's pleadings, and the lad told his story with much simple eloquence and fervour, the stern lines of his brow did not relax, and his lips set themselves into an ominous curve which the prince liked little to see.
Griffeth's only trouble had been the thought of leaving his brother, and it was when he had realized from Alphonso's words that the king was deeply offended with Wendot, and that it was almost hopeless to think of his obtaining his liberty again, that the heart of the lad sank in despondency and sorrow.
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