Текст книги "Lion Triumphant"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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“Explain to me more.”

“It is simple. I know the name of the ship which raided our coast on that night. I know the name of Isabella’s ravisher. The ship was the Rampant Lion. The man who ruined her life Captain Jake Pennlyon.”

I had caught my breath; I felt the color rushing into my face. I stared at him. I know my lips formed the name Jake Pennlyon although I did not speak.

“Now you begin to understand. My affianced bride was cruelly treated by this brigand. His affianced bride is in my hands. You are not a fool. You understand.”

“I begin to.”

“I shall tell you of Isabella, beautiful Isabella, an untutored child. Our brides are young … younger than yours perhaps. Fifteen years old. She knew nothing of life, what marriage would be. I should have led her gently to understanding … tenderly. You are made of stronger stuff. You are no child. You have knowledge of the world. It may be that you are not a virgin. But I shall take my revenge. He took my woman, so shall I take his. You are not, I trust, carrying his child already?”

“You are insulting.”

“Nay. I respect your pride; but I know his kind. I would not wish to insult you. We are not brigands here. We live graciously and in a becoming manner I shall secure my revenge if you permit this. I know that you were not his mistress. My spies kept me informed.”

“The false Rackell, the falser Gregory.”

“Faithful to me,” he said, “as they should be. I have vowed to take my revenge and shall do so whatever the cost. I shall rejoice if you are a virgin, for that will make my revenge complete.”

“That is your purpose then?”

“Our wedding took place as arranged. She was demented. She would awaken screaming from her sleep; her dreams terrified her. None but her duenna could comfort her. When I approached her she shrank from me. She associated me with him, you see. We discovered that she was with child … that brigand’s child. You cannot realize this tragedy until you have seen it. I vowed revenge. I have sworn before all the saints that I shall not rest until that revenge is complete.”

“A strange vow to take in holy places,” I said.

“I have sworn,” he said, “in the name of God the Father and the Holy Virgin; I have sworn on my family’s honor, and I know that I have divine help in this, for now you are delivered into my hands.”

“And so the drama is to be reenacted. I take the part of Isabella and you Pennlyon.” I recoiled from him—this strange cold man. “Do you think you could ever be like him? You could not be more unlike…”

“And you like her. It matters not. You are here by God’s grace. We have brought you out of your island. You have come safely through the perils of the sea. And I swear by my ancestors and all the saints that you shall not leave this island until you carry my child in your womb. You shall take my child to him as he has left his to me.”

“So you think that I will submit with docility?”

“I think that you have no choice but to submit.”

“And allow myself to be treated as of no consequence as merely a means of giving you your revenge!”

“As Isabella was a means of satisfying that man’s lust.”

“You call yourself courteous, sensitive! I call you a rogue, a pirate, for although you are too fastidious to sail the seas and capture women for yourself you have your servants bring them to you. You are as bad as he is.”

“I have vowed a vow. I intend it to be carried out. I am indeed different from the man who was to have been your husband. I offer you a choice. Gracious submission or force.”

“I’ve no doubt he offered her that.”

I stood up and moved to the door. He was beside me.

“This is distasteful to me,” he said. “Do not imagine I lust for your body.”

“Can I hope that I am as repulsive to you as you are to me?”

“You can believe that I have as little pleasure in what must be done as you have. But it shall be done and whether our encounter is to be conducted with seemly discretion or in a manner which will be humiliating and degrading to you is for you to decide.”

I looked at him; he was slender and he did not give the impression of great strength, as Jake Pennlyon had. A woman would know at once that she had no chance against him. I could fight this man. And if I escaped him where should I go?

He followed my thoughts. “I have many servants here. I have but to summon them. Strong men who would truss you up as a chicken for the pot. But I do not wish for that. I want the matter to be conducted expeditiously and with as little discomfort to you and myself as possible. I do not blame you for what happened. But you are a necessary instrument of my revenge.”

I thought I could like him better if he were goaded by that lust—anything would be better than this coldly scheming approach.

He said: “I will send for Maria; she shall conduct you to the bedchamber; she will prepare you. I will visit you there. I beg of you consider. You know you are here and powerless to resist. This shall come to pass. How depends on you.”

He went to the door. Maria must have been waiting. She came in and knew what to do. I followed her back to the bedroom.

I suppose always before I had acted on impulse. I had forcefully expressed my agreement or refusal to do anything. I had rarely been undecided. “Count ten before speaking,” my mother had said. I could go on counting day and night now and I should not know what to do. I was going to be this man’s mistress. It was as inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun. I could see nothing that would prevent it. I was a prisoner on this island and there was nothing that could save me. If I attempted to resist him he would resort to force as he had said; and he was not the man to apply force himself, any more than he was to take part in the actual abduction. Others did that for him.

Maria slipped off my clothes; over my head was put a night shift of silk. It had that pungent odor about it.

Maria turned down the sheet. She indicated that I was to get into the bed. I did so shivering. I was fighting with myself. I saw men tying my ankles together. I saw myself forcibly taken as Jake Pennlyon had taken Isabella. I could not endure that—just to reach the same end.

Maria was blowing out the candles. The room was in darkness. She went out and shut the door.

I leaped out of bed. I tried the door. It was locked. I went to the window. I drew back the curtains so that a little starlight penetrated. I opened the window and stepped out onto the balcony. I wondered if I could climb down into the patio. I could find Honey, run to her for shelter.

I pictured rough hands on me. He was right, I had to make a choice. Would I make a pretense of submission or would I wait to be degradingly forced?

It was too late. I could hear the key in the lock. I ran back to the bed and lay there, my heart beating quietly.

He came into the room. I saw him in the starlight standing by the bed. He was wrapped in a robe, which he took off. I closed my eyes tightly.

Then I was aware of his body, his hands on me, his face close to mine.

I tried to calm myself and I thought: Oh, God, I saved myself from Jake Pennlyon, from the lustful men on the galleon … for this.

A week had passed. I could not believe that this was happening to me. I saw little of him during the day, but each night he came to me. He never stayed. “The matter,” as he called it, was as distasteful to him as to me. I had never thought it possible to have such a cold-blooded lover—but he was not a lover; this had nothing to do with love; it was revenge.

There was a certain passion—the passion of revenge—and for me the passion of hatred. I hated him for this humiliating use of me. He had robbed me of my dignity as a human being. I was not a woman to be loved or to be hated; I was a means to give him the revenge he needed. My hatred grew when I considered that. He was trying to create a life; he would bring a child into the world to satisfy his revenge and make me the instrument of reproduction. Could anything be more humiliating than that?

Only a man of extreme arrogance could dream of using others for such a purpose. He was every bit as bad as Jake Pennlyon. I hated them both. How dared they treat women in such a way!

When this man came to me I thought of Jake Pennlyon and I could not shut out of my mind the thought of his coming to this house and finding Isabella and in my imagination I was Isabella and the man who was humiliating me was Jake Pennlyon.

I was treated with respect during the day. There were servants to wait on me. During that first week I was not allowed beyond the house. But I did see Honey. The very first day I was taken to her. I was very shocked on that day by what had happened on the previous night; and as the days passed I was shocked in another way to discover how quickly I had grown accustomed to his visits.

The first encounter had horrified me—after all, I had been a virgin and, although not ignorant of sexual relationships, had never experienced such. It was at this stage that I talked to Honey.

She had been well received and had been given a pleasant room with Jennet to act as a kind of maid to her. She was bewildered as to why we had been brought there until I told her what had happened to me.

She listened incredulously. “It is too fantastic. It can’t be true.”

“This Felipe is a vindictive man. He is cold and cruel. He would go to any lengths to gain his revenge. When I carry his child we shall be taken back to England … and not till then.”

“So it was all planned.”

“What sort of mind would make such a plan? You can guess the sort of man he is. An eye for an eye. He has to pay back in exactly the same manner. It is Jake Pennlyon who has ruined my life, Honey. I knew it from the moment I saw him.”

“His young wife taken like that! It’s horrible, Catharine.”

“What became of her I don’t know. All I know is that he must have been heartbroken when he came back and found her … a child of fifteen, think of that, Honey; and Jake Pennlyon.”

Then I began to laugh hysterically. “I have been raped. As surely as anyone I have been violated, and in this most courteous manner.” I covered my face with my hands.

Honey shook me. “Don’t, Catharine,” she said. “Don’t laugh like that. It’s happened. Let us think on from there. This man…”

“He will visit me each night. He has said so. Oh Honey, when I think of it…”

“Don’t think of it. It is happening and nothing can change it. We are prisoners here and we know now for what purpose. At least he has not ill-treated you.”

“He has only misused my body,” I said fiercely.

“Catharine, we have come through violent adventures. This has happened. Edward is dead. My baby will soon be born. We are far from home. This man has taken you against your will, but not roughly as he might well have done.”

“As Jake Pennlyon must have taken Isabella. But perhaps she had a chance of passivity or the consequences. I chose passivity. I wish I’d fought him now.”

Honey said: “Be calm. Let us wait and see what happens. We don’t know from one moment to another. This man has had his will of you. It has happened to girls before. Let us try to bear what is in store for us.”

All that day I was with Honey and I could not get out of my mind what had happened to me. I thought of it all day—myself and this cold strange man—Isabella and Jake Pennlyon. And the evening came and Maria came for me and I bathed and was anointed with the perfumed oil—he was such a fastidious gentleman—and again that night he came to me.

Everyone in the household knew I was the Governor’s mistress. He did not wish to see me during the days, but at night he visited me. He did not stay. His visits were brief—only long enough to achieve the purpose.

I was treated with respect. So was Honey. The hushed household was far more comfortable than the galleon and Honey was getting to the stage when she needed comfort. Jennet slipped into the new life with ease; she mourned Alfonso for a day or so, but I knew it would not be long before she took up with someone. There were menservants and I had seen the looks that came her way. Such looks would always come Jennet’s way.

I was too deeply concerned with myself to think much of them during that first week. Often I could not believe that it was truly happening. I must wake up and find it all a dream—from the night the galleon had been in the bay and the men had called.

Then what astonished me was that I was beginning to accept everything. The quiet daily life; the house; the beautiful gardens with flowers such as we did not grow in England; the warmth of the sun; the fruits growing in the enclosed gardens. We were free to walk about, but there were guards at the gate who prevented us leaving the house and the gardens. There was a sewing room in which were frames and canvases to be embroidered. Honey was allowed to make clothes, but I was not. I was to draw what I wanted from the cupboards in the bedroom. Clothes were put there for me to choose from. I was allowed freedom in that. They were beautiful clothes, feminine clothes, and most of them were scented with the perfume of the oil which Maria rubbed into me at the end of each day.

Where did these clothes come from? I demanded to know. But Maria only shook her head.

I saw him now and then. He would ride out on a fine white horse. He looked magnificent mounted. He would often be away the whole day, but he always came back at night. He always came into my bedroom at the appointed time and rarely did he speak to me.

My moods varied—sometimes I would try to convey to him my contempt for a man who could behave so, sometimes I wanted him to know how I hated him. I wanted to shout: “Get me with child quickly that I may be rid of you.” At others: “I will be barren to spite you. What then, my revengeful lord?”

But I never spoke either and so that first strange week passed.

I had ceased to look for the ship on the horizon. I had accepted my fate. I had fought for myself and lost. I had been taken, ill-used; and I began to wonder how I could take my revenge on men such as Don Felipe and Jake Pennlyon, who believed that women were there for their pleasure whether it be to satisfy lust or revenge, it mattered not.

I hated Don Felipe Gonzáles as I had hated Jake Pennlyon.

We had made a kind of pattern of our days, Honey and I. It was March of the year 1560, and her baby was due in a few weeks’ time. I suppose impending childbirth makes everything else seem insignificant. Honey’s thoughts were all for the child. She was constantly making clothes from the materials she found in the sewing room. I was not much use with my needle, but I improved a little during those first days merely because I had to do something. I used to wonder that in a house such as this one there should be a sewing room; Honey took it for granted and was grateful for it. I supposed that these rooms had been prepared for the bride Isabella. Had she ever used them?

I would sit making idle speculations, but Honey scarcely listened; she was absorbed by her child.

It was a week after we had arrived at the Hacienda that we ventured into the Casa Azul. This was a small house standing in the grounds surrounded by a high wall. We had seen it from a distance and wondered what it was and on this particular morning I made up my mind to find out.

I insisted on Honey’s accompanying me and when she saw that I was leading her to the Casa Azul she wanted to turn back.

“Why?” I demanded.

“There is something repellent about it.”

“You are fanciful.”

“I don’t want to do anything that would harm the child.”

“Why, Honey, what’s come over you? What more can happen? Any child who could survive the last months will manage the next few weeks.”

She came with me to the wrought-iron gates; we looked through them to a courtyard which had been made with stones of varying shades of blue which had no doubt given the house its name. There were flowering shrubs of all kinds—brilliant colors among the green foliage.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“It’s gloomy,” insisted Honey.

I pushed open the wrought-iron gate and beckoned Honey. Rather reluctantly she followed me.

There was an air of silent mystery in the courtyard. Windows looked down at us, all with their balconies shut in by wrought iron. They were picturesque and one imagined girls wearing red petticoats and black lace mantillas seated there. Against the wall was a wooden seat with a trellis back. I tiptoed into the courtyard and sat down.

Honey followed me reluctantly. “Has it occurred to you that we might be trespassing?”

I said: “This is part of his estate. I will see all I can of it.”

Honey looked distressed as she did when I talked of him, and I did not wish to talk of him either. By day I wanted to forget those furtive visits.

As we sat there I was aware of a movement at one of the windows and a child stepped onto the balcony. She was like a doll, I thought; she wore black velvet with a white lace frill at her neck and wrists; her long dark hair hung about her shoulders. I guessed her to be about eleven or twelve years old.

She called out something in Spanish which I gathered to be “Who are you?”

I answered in English. “We are at the Hacienda.”

She put her fingers to her lips as though warning me to silence; she said something else and disappeared.

“What a beautiful little girl!” said Honey. “I wonder who she is.”

The girl had come into the courtyard. She was holding a doll in a red satin petticoat and a black mantilla. It was rather like herself.

She held the doll out to us and made it bow; I curtsied and she laughed aloud. There was something arresting about her besides her beauty, for there was a strangeness about her enormous dark eyes.

She held out her hand and took mine. We all sat down together on the seat. Then she noticed that Honey was pregnant, or so it seemed; her face puckered suddenly and she began to cry out: “No. No.” She hid her face in her hands on which several rings sparkled; I noticed gold bracelets on her wrists. Then she turned her back on Honey as though she were determined to forget she was there and when she looked at me she was smiling happily.

She muttered something in which I caught the words bella and muñeca and as I thought she was talking about her doll I replied in stumbling Spanish that the doll was a very beautiful one. She started to rock it as one would a child and I thought then that she looked too old for this kind of play.

Then at the door from which she had emerged a figure appeared.

“Isabella!” said a voice shrill and commanding.

Although I had begun to guess, the shock was none the less great. This was his wife then. This was the girl who had suffered at the hands of Jake Pennlyon.

Isabella rose obediently and went to the woman. She put her arms about her, the doll held by one arm dangling down as she did so. A flood of words came from the woman, scolding and tender, I judged from the tones. Over the girl’s head the woman studied us. Her eyes were sharp, piercing under straggling black brows in which the occasional white hair was visible.

She took the girl’s hand and drew her toward the door, but Isabella suddenly became petulant, crying, “No. No,” and turned to stare at us. She extricated herself from the woman’s arms and came over to stand before us. I was aware then of a scent which was familiar to me; it was the same as that which was in the toilet room and of which the clothes I wore smelled faintly. It was in the bedroom where I suffered my nightly humiliations. I wondered what it was.

The girl spoke to us, but as it was in Spanish I could not understand; then the woman came and took her by the hand and led her firmly away.

She turned to us at the door and spat out a word which I assumed meant “Go away.”

The door shut and we were alone in the courtyard.

“What a strange scene,” I said.

“We deserved all we got. We had no right to be here. I wonder who the girl was.”

“She must be his Isabella,” I said.

“You mean … his wife? But she was a child.”

The door into the courtyard had opened and Richard Rackell stood there.

“Come away,” he said quickly. “You should not have gone there.”

“Is it forbidden?” I asked coldly. I could never forget the part he had played in betraying us.

“There have been no express orders,” he said holding open the door. He went on: “Please.”

As we walked away he went on: “It was a terrible tragedy.”

“Whatever happened,” I said fiercely, “does not excuse what has been done to us, nor those who helped to do it.”

“You have seen the Lady Isabella,” he said. “She is as a child. She became so after the Rampant Lion came here. It affected her mind. She lives like a child with her duenna.”

I said: “She is beautiful.”

“You see a beautiful shell which holds nothing. Her mind is incapable of retaining anything; she has reverted to her childhood. Her interest is in her dolls. It is a great tragedy. You understand.”

I wanted to be alone. I could not get out of my mind the memory of that beautiful face which was devoid of the light of understanding.

The perfume too. I began to understand more. He tried to imagine that I was Isabella. I had to wear her clothes; use her perfume; he wanted to delude himself that the woman to whom he came each night was Isabella.

My attitude toward him had changed. I was sorry for him. I pictured his returning from his expedition expecting to find his beautiful bride waiting for him; the marriage ceremony would have been fixed; he and his lovely highborn Isabella were to be husband and wife. Isabella may have been a child of fifteen, but they married young in Spain; and Felipe Gonzáles was a gentleman; with great courteousness he would have wooed his wife and initiated her into the bedchamber rituals in such a manner as would have been acceptable to her. Instead of which Jake Pennlyon had come with his crude buccaneering ways and he had taken this delicately nurtured creature and crushed her, for crushed she was, poor little bud who had been cruelly deflowered before the blossoms came. And her mind had become unhinged.

I hate you, Jake Pennlyon, I thought; and my feelings against that man were intense while I could only feel pity for Felipe Gonzáles.

Jake Pennlyon! How I wished I had never seen him. He had brought me nothing but disaster. Here I was a prisoner, each night submitted to an intolerable humiliation—because of Jake Pennlyon. My pride was ignored; my body was used to satisfy revenge. I was a substitute for a beautiful young girl whose mind had been destroyed by Jake Pennlyon and my seducer had to imagine that I was this girl in order to make love—if one could use such a word in this connection—to me.

In addition to my humbled pride I was getting anxious about Honey. Her time was near. In the first year of her marriage she had had a miscarriage and I remembered my mother’s saying that the next time she must take the greatest care. In a few weeks now her child would be born; and what would happen if it came before its time? Who would care for her?

I decided to see Felipe Gonzáles. I had seen very little of him really. I wondered whether he avoided me by day. Ours must have been one of the strangest relationships which ever existed.

I knew that at certain times of the day he was often in the room which was called his escritorio and I decided that I would see him there. When I considered my feelings I realized that they had changed since I had seen Isabella. I was piqued because of what was implied in the fact that I had to wear Isabella’s clothes and use her scent; at the same time I felt a certain sympathy for him. I could imagine so much of what must have taken place: his arranged marriage which would have been ideal; his return to find his beautiful wife reduced to a shell. I imagined the ceremony of marriage which had followed and Isabella’s screaming terror when he approached her; and then the knowledge that she was to bear a child—Jake Pennlyon’s child. It was a tragedy and I understood how he must have called forth the wrath of heaven on the man who was responsible. I even understood his vow of vengeance.

I was also angry that I, so desired by Jake Pennlyon and others, should have to be tricked out as someone else before this man could be sufficiently aroused to carry out his purpose. It was a vain and stupid emotion, I suppose, but I felt it.

I had to see him and it was a fact that I was anxious about Honey.

He was seated at a table with papers before him. He rose as I entered.

“I gave orders that no one was to disturb me,” he said.

“I have to see you,” I replied. “There is something of importance that I must say to you.”

He bowed again—always courteous. I was glad of the darkened room. I felt embarrassed; I could have sworn he did too. Here we were two strangers by day but who by night shared the ultimate intimacy.

I said: “I have come to see you on behalf of my sister.”

He looked relieved. I sat down and he resumed his seat.

“As you know she is shortly to have a child. At any moment her time may come. I should like to know what can be done for her.”

“We have many servants,” he said.

“She will need a midwife.”

“There is a midwife in La Laguna.”

“Then she must be brought here. It was no fault of my sister’s that she was taken away.”

He conceded this. “Nor of any of us,” I went on angrily, hating his cold manner and thinking of his deluding himself that I was Isabella. “We have been dragged from our home to suit your evil purpose.”

He held up his hand. “Enough,” he said. “The midwife shall be sent for.”

“I suppose you would like me to thank you, but I find it difficult to thank you for anything.”

“It is not necessary. Suffice it that the midwife shall come.”

He half rose in his chair—a gesture of dismissal. But I did not wish to be dismissed. I was angry to be used in this manner and seeing him there in his elegant clothes, his cold face expressionless, his manner so precise, and thinking again of those nightly encounters and the way in which I had been used, robbed of my dignity, my will, everything to serve his revengeful purpose, my anger was so intense that I wanted to hurt him.

I said: “I can only pray that ere long I shall be free of you.”

“It is too soon yet,” he said. “But I pray with you that we shall both soon be relieved of this irksome duty.”

My anger was so great that I could have struck him.

I cried: “You appear to have no great difficulty in performing this irksome duty.”

“It is good of you to concern yourself on my behalf. May I assure you that we have substances which if taken judiciously arouse desire in the most reluctant.”

“And how long am I expected to submit to this distasteful duty of yours?”

“Rest assured that as soon as I am certain that my efforts have borne fruit I shall with the utmost pleasure and relief abandon my visits to you.”

“I think I may well by this time be with child.”

“We must be sure,” he said.

“It is such an effort for you. I thought but to spare you.”

“I have no wish to be spared from my revenge. The sooner I can effect it, the better.”

“And when you are certain that your loathsome seed is growing within me I shall be taken back to my home?”

“You will be returned to your affianced husband in the same condition that Isabella was left to me.”

“You are indeed a vengeful man,” I said. “Others must be trampled underfoot for the sake of your revenge.”

“It is often so.”

“I despise you for your cruelty, your indifference to others, for your cold and calculating revengeful nature. But I suppose that is of no importance to you.”

“None whatever,” he replied; and this time he stood up and bowed.

So I left him. But I kept thinking about him all day and wondering how I could be revenged on him.

Later that day the midwife rode into the courtyard on a mule and was brought to Honey. To our delight the woman could speak a little English. She was middle-aged and had been with a family in Cádiz which had had two English servants. Her English was of course limited, but it was a great relief to find she could understand a little.

She told us that Honey’s condition was good and that the child was due in the next week or so. She would ask that she might stay at the Hacienda so that they would not have to send for her in the night.

Jennet was present and suddenly the woman asked her when she was expecting.

Jennet blushed scarlet. I looked at her in astonishment. Now that I knew it seemed clear, but she had certainly successfully hidden it from us.

Jennet said she thought she was five months gone. The woman prodded her and said she would examine her. They went off together into the room leading from Honey’s where Jennet slept.

“I’m not surprised,” said Honey. “It had to happen sooner or later. It will be Alfonso’s.”

“I thought at first it might have been Rackell’s. What a strange affair that was. I’ll swear she has scarce been near him since we left.”

“She couldn’t bear him after Alfonso.”

“I think Jennet would be able to bear any man rather than none.”

“You are often a little hard on her, Catharine. It can hardly be called her fault if that Spanish sailor has got her with child.”

“I don’t think she was very reluctant.”

“It would have been no good if she had been. She submitted, that was all.”

“With a very good grace.”

I began to laugh suddenly. “The three of us, Honey … think of it! All to have children. For I shall soon be in like case, I doubt not. And I am the only one who has had a child forced on me. How does one feel, I wonder, toward one’s bastard when rape has been the cause of his arrival? Of course it was a very courteous rape. I never thought it would be like that.” I started to laugh and suddenly the tears were on my cheeks. “I’m crying,” I said, “for the first time. I’m sorry for myself. There is so much hate in me, Honey … for him and for Jake Pennlyon. Between them they have done this. But for them I should be at home in the Abbey with my mother.”

I covered my face with my hands and Honey was soothing me.

“It was to have been so different. The way Carey and I planned our life together. It was going to be so wonderful.”

“The things we plan rarely happen as we plan them, Catharine.”