Read Online Daughters of Spain by Jean Plaidy, 6.95 - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jean Plaidy, 6.95
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shall treat you with especial leniency. You know my beliefs. I hate nepotism. I shall never allow it to be used in any of my concerns.'
And Bernardin would stand smiling at him in that lazy cynical way of his, as though he were reminding his powerful brother that he did not always live up to his own rigid code.
It was true that he had made exceptions. There was the case of Bernardin for one. He had taken him into his household with a lucrative post as steward. What folly!
'Yet this was my brother,' said Ximenes aloud.
And how had Bernardin shown his gratitude? By giving himself airs, by stirring up trouble, by extricating himself from those difficult situations which were of his own making, by truculently reminding those who sought justice: 'I am the brother of the Archbishop of Toledo. I am greatly favoured by him. If you dare to bring any complaints against me, it will go ill with you.'
'Oh shame!' cried Ximenes. 'This was the very weakness I deplore in others.'
And what had he done with Bernardin? Banished him to a monastery, and there Bernardin had drawn up complaints against his brother in which he had been supported by the Archbishop's enemies - who were numerous.
There had been nothing to do but send Bernardin to prison. And how his conscience had suffered. 'My own brother ... in prison?' he had demanded of himself. 'Yes, but he deserves his fate,' was the answer. 'Your own brother! Oh, it is only little Bernardin who was always one for mischief.'
So he had brought him out of prison and taken him back as a steward, and had talked to him sternly, imploring him to lead a better life.
But what had been the use? Bernardin would not mend his ways. It had not been long before news had come to Ximenes that his brother had interfered with the justice of the Courts, threatening that if a judge did not give a certain verdict he would incur the displeasure of the Archbishop of Toledo.
This was the final disaster. For this reason he had sent for Bernardin, for all his peccadilloes of the past seemed slight compared with this interference with the justice of the Courts.
Ximenes raised himself and called Francisco Ruiz.
His nephew came hurrying to his bedside. How he wished that his brother were like this trustworthy man.
'Francisco, when Bernardin comes, have him brought to me at once and leave us together.'
Ruiz bowed his head and, when Ximenes waved a hand, immediately left the sickroom.
'I would be alone,' Ximenes said gently as he went. 'I want to pray.'
He was still praying when Bernardin was brought to him.
Ximenes opened his eyes and regarded his wayward brother, looking in vain for a sign of penitence in Bernardin's face.
'Well, brother,' said Ximenes, 'as you see I have been forced to take to my bed.'
'I pray you do not ask for my sympathy,' cried Bernardin. 'You are ill because of this ridiculous life you lead. You could be well and strong if you allowed yourself to live in comfort.'
'I have not summoned you to me that you may advise me on my way of life, Bernardin, but to remonstrate with you regarding your own.'
'And what sins have I committed now?'
'You will know so much better than I.'
'In your eyes, brother, all human actions are sin.'
'Not all, Bernardin.'
'All mine. Your own, of course, are virtues.'
'I found it necessary recently to have you imprisoned.'
Bernardin's eyes glittered and he came nearer to the bed. 'Do not attempt to do such a thing again. I swear to you that if you do you will live to regret the day.'
'Your threats would never make me swerve from my duty, Bernardin.'
Bernardin leaned over the bed and seized Ximenes roughly by the shoulder. Ximenes tried to throw him off but failed to do so and lay panting helplessly on his pillows.
Bernardin laughed aloud. 'Why, 'tis not I who am at your mercy, but you at mine. What is the Archbishop of Toledo but a skin full of bones! You are sick, brother. Why, I could put these two hands of mine about your neck and press and press ...
And Bernardin would stand smiling at him in that lazy cynical way of his, as though he were reminding his powerful brother that he did not always live up to his own rigid code.
It was true that he had made exceptions. There was the case of Bernardin for one. He had taken him into his household with a lucrative post as steward. What folly!
'Yet this was my brother,' said Ximenes aloud.
And how had Bernardin shown his gratitude? By giving himself airs, by stirring up trouble, by extricating himself from those difficult situations which were of his own making, by truculently reminding those who sought justice: 'I am the brother of the Archbishop of Toledo. I am greatly favoured by him. If you dare to bring any complaints against me, it will go ill with you.'
'Oh shame!' cried Ximenes. 'This was the very weakness I deplore in others.'
And what had he done with Bernardin? Banished him to a monastery, and there Bernardin had drawn up complaints against his brother in which he had been supported by the Archbishop's enemies - who were numerous.
There had been nothing to do but send Bernardin to prison. And how his conscience had suffered. 'My own brother ... in prison?' he had demanded of himself. 'Yes, but he deserves his fate,' was the answer. 'Your own brother! Oh, it is only little Bernardin who was always one for mischief.'
So he had brought him out of prison and taken him back as a steward, and had talked to him sternly, imploring him to lead a better life.
But what had been the use? Bernardin would not mend his ways. It had not been long before news had come to Ximenes that his brother had interfered with the justice of the Courts, threatening that if a judge did not give a certain verdict he would incur the displeasure of the Archbishop of Toledo.
This was the final disaster. For this reason he had sent for Bernardin, for all his peccadilloes of the past seemed slight compared with this interference with the justice of the Courts.
Ximenes raised himself and called Francisco Ruiz.
His nephew came hurrying to his bedside. How he wished that his brother were like this trustworthy man.
'Francisco, when Bernardin comes, have him brought to me at once and leave us together.'
Ruiz bowed his head and, when Ximenes waved a hand, immediately left the sickroom.
'I would be alone,' Ximenes said gently as he went. 'I want to pray.'
He was still praying when Bernardin was brought to him.
Ximenes opened his eyes and regarded his wayward brother, looking in vain for a sign of penitence in Bernardin's face.
'Well, brother,' said Ximenes, 'as you see I have been forced to take to my bed.'
'I pray you do not ask for my sympathy,' cried Bernardin. 'You are ill because of this ridiculous life you lead. You could be well and strong if you allowed yourself to live in comfort.'
'I have not summoned you to me that you may advise me on my way of life, Bernardin, but to remonstrate with you regarding your own.'
'And what sins have I committed now?'
'You will know so much better than I.'
'In your eyes, brother, all human actions are sin.'
'Not all, Bernardin.'
'All mine. Your own, of course, are virtues.'
'I found it necessary recently to have you imprisoned.'
Bernardin's eyes glittered and he came nearer to the bed. 'Do not attempt to do such a thing again. I swear to you that if you do you will live to regret the day.'
'Your threats would never make me swerve from my duty, Bernardin.'
Bernardin leaned over the bed and seized Ximenes roughly by the shoulder. Ximenes tried to throw him off but failed to do so and lay panting helplessly on his pillows.
Bernardin laughed aloud. 'Why, 'tis not I who am at your mercy, but you at mine. What is the Archbishop of Toledo but a skin full of bones! You are sick, brother. Why, I could put these two hands of mine about your neck and press and press ...
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