Текст книги "Lion Triumphant"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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I screamed, but he did not release his hold; he started to drag me away.

But John Gregory was there. They were both holding me, pulling me this way and that.

The Captain appeared I did not know from where, unless he was always watching when we were on deck. He shouted an order to a group of men standing by. For a few terrifying seconds everything seemed to be as still as the ocean. No one moved. The thought flashed into my mind: This is mutiny. The Captain spoke again. His voice rang out clear and firm with an authority to which those men were accustomed to respond.

Two men came forward; they seized the dark man and held him firmly. He was marched away.

“You should go below,” said the Captain to me.

He was flogged and the ship’s company were assembled to see it done.

We of course did not witness this. We remained below in the Captain’s cabin, but we knew what was happening. I could picture it as though I were there—that man tied to the whipping post; his back bare, the terrible whip descending, leaving his flesh torn, raw and bleeding. I could imagine his agony and I wanted to run up and stop it.

The Captain came down to the cabin later.

“He has had his punishment,” he said. “It will be a lesson.”

I shivered, and he went on: “He will survive. Thirty lashes. Fifty would have killed him.”

“Was so much necessary to teach a lesson?” I asked.

“Lashes are the only lessons which they understand.”

“And all because he touched me!”

“I have my duty,” he said.

“And that is to protect me.”

He nodded.

“He will never forget me, that man,” I said, “and he will never forgive me.”

“He will, let us hope, never forget the need to obey orders.”

“It is disturbing that such a thing has happened because of me.”

“Let us renew our prayers for a breeze,” said the Captain.

Another day passed, a day of breathless calm.

I was afraid to go on deck after what had happened; I knew I should not meet this man because he would be too sick of his wounds to stand about and stare at me.

“The men said he nearly died,” reported Jennet. “The whip is a terrible thing. ’Twill mark his back forever.”

“Poor man, I’m sorry for him.”

“He’d been boasting he’d take you. He said he didn’t care what you were. He said he didn’t care if you’d come from the Devil, he was going to have you.”

She was wearing a little image of the Virgin around her neck. Her lover had given it to her as a talisman to keep her from harm.

“What’s that?” I had asked.

“’Tis the Virgin,” she had told me. “She protects women.”

Now she was uneasy and wanted to give it to me.

“Mistress,” she pleaded, “take my Virgin. Wear it around your neck.”

“You need it, Jennet. You go among the sailors.”

She shook her head fearfully.

“What’s the matter, Jennet?” I asked.

“’Tis what they’re saying, Mistress. ’Tis what they’re saying about you.”

“What are they saying about me?”

“When they were lashing him he called out. He said it was the Devil in you that had urged him on. He said you were a witch and a heretic. You’d cast down the priest’s holy cross, he said, and you’d brought evil onto the ship. He said witches brew up storms and didn’t we have such a storm as they’d rarely seen before! Then they all said a man had nearly died through you and now there’s the calm. They frighten me, Mistress. So … take the Virgin. She’ll protect you.”

A cold fear took possession of me then. I recalled that moment of hesitation when the Captain had commanded them to seize my attacker. I knew that mutiny was in the air and for me there was a personal terror for many of these men believed me to be a witch.

What did they do to witches? I asked myself.

And the calm continued.

I was out on deck gazing toward that far horizon; the sky a delicate blue, the sea like a sheet of silk, not a ripple; silence everywhere.

On the deck a group of men watched us furtively. John Gregory was nervous, Richard Rackell was pale.

“It is very hot up here,” said Gregory. “I think we should go down.”

“Not hastily,” I said. “But presently.”

Somehow I knew that a hurried retreat would have pressed those men into action.

I had been afraid many times since I had stepped onto this ship, but I think I was then living through some of the most terrifying moments.

I gazed across that great arc of the sky; I stared out to the horizon; I asked John Gregory if there was any hope of a change in the weather—and all the time I was conscious of those men watching me.

At length I said: “I’ve had enough. Let us go below.”

Slowly I walked to the companionway. Every second I expected a rustle from behind, a scurry of feet, strong arms about me. I knew that they were ready and waiting for some sort of signal. Perhaps I would hear the words: “Heretic! Witch!” What did they do in Spain to heretics? They tied them to a stake; they placed wood at their feet; then they lighted the fagots. The bodies of heretics were consumed by the flames, a foretaste on earth of that fate which many believed would pursue them through eternity.

I was in revolt, as I always had been since my mother had taught me, against such bigotry. I could never believe that leading the good life depended on a single mode of belief. But I was now afraid.

The Captain came to his cabin, to which we had been taken.

He said: “I think it would be wise if you remained here until we sail. It is not good for the men in the mood they are in to see you.”

I nodded. I was in agreement with him now.

The door was locked. John Gregory remained on guard with Richard Rackell and we stayed in the cabin.

Night came. Every sound set my heart beating wildly. I could picture them all storming the cabin, battering down the door and seizing me. I could almost hear their shouts of “Witch” and “Heretic.”

They wanted to destroy me because I was on board and kept apart from them. Women on board—three of them, and only one serving the purpose for which these men would consider they were meant. Jennet—the property of Big Alfonso. Honey and myself kept under strict guard by the Captain’s orders. And everywhere that calm which was more devastating than the storm.

I slept but fitfully.

I whispered to Honey: “The Captain cannot guard us forever.”

“He will guard us for as long as he must,” she answered.

She had a blind faith in him.

I wondered afresh about Honey, who it seemed was a widow. But her plight and the baby she carried seemed to have kept the loss of Edward from her mind. I pondered too on this deep feeling of which I was conscious between herself and this Captain. It was there, some understanding. I wondered whether it was love.

Then I thought of Jake Pennlyon and my heart leaped, for I thought constantly: He will come for me. He will look for me and find me.

No ship could sail on this calm sea; was that the reason why this fear was with me? He could not come to me because the Rampant Lion would lie as still and helpless as the galleon.

Fear was back. We were trapped in a miniature floating castle; there was acute danger all about us and our protectors would be helpless against a band of desperate men.

I must face the fact that it was only a matter of waiting.

Morning came—the still and beautiful morning. The sun rose touching the sea with scarlet and began its climb into the sky.

Another day—of breathless calm and growing tension.

We stayed in the cabin. Every time there were footsteps outside the door we started.

The Captain had set the men tasks to perform. They could not swab the decks because there was a shortage of water, but they could carry trays of burning pitch through the mess decks to fumigate them. The odor which came from them was fetid and nauseating. He set them trying to catch fish—a useful occupation, for they could cook what they caught and share it with their comrades.

But even so the tension grew. While they fished they talked of the heretic witch who had set a spell on their ship and was bringing disaster to them all.

Jennet brought news to us.

“The men be getting together this afternoon,” she said. “’Tis a plan of action. They be working out what they’m going to do.”

Her eyes were wide and frightened. She was fond of me.

“Wear the Virgin, Mistress,” she said. “It’ll save ’ee.”

And I put it on, as I said, to please her, but in truth I was ready to clutch anything that could help me and it might do me some good.

They were meeting that afternoon. I was in the cabin and Honey was with me. I did not tell her what Jennet had told me. It would be bad for the baby if she were too frightened.

I imagined what would happen: the sound of feet on the companionway, the hammer of fists on the door.

I made an excuse to leave the cabin. Jennet was at the door, her eyes round with horror.

“What’s happening, Jennet?” I asked.

“They’re up there on the deck,” she said. “None will stop them, Mistress, not even the Captain. They say it’s black magic…”

“They’re coming for me … !”

“Oh, Mistress, it be terrible.”

I started up the companionway. She was pulling at my arm. “Don’t go. If they do see you they’d go mad. You’ve got the Virgin, Mistress. Pray to the Virgin. She protects women.”

I could hear the shouts of the men.

Jennet whispered: “They’m saying you’re a witch. They blame you for all that’s gone wrong. Oh, Mistress, they be building up the fagots on the deck … there. They’ve got the stake to tie you to. It’s what they do to witches.”

“Oh, God, Jennet,” I said. “This is the end … the terrible end.”

“Nay, Mistress, it must not be. I know somewhere we could hide. Alfonso showed me. He puts me in it sometimes … when he won’t be there to look after me. Come quick.”

I followed her, not noticing where we went. In my imagination I could hear the crackle of flames, I could feel my scorched and burning flesh.

I was near to death—horrible death—and the realization was terrifying.

Jennet opened a hatch and we were in a dark hole. The smell was nauseating, but the dark brought comfort.

But for how long could we remain hidden?

Jennet was praying to the Virgin, the protectress of women; and never was a woman more in need of protection.

I prayed with her … prayed for a miracle.

I don’t know how long we stayed in the dark hole. I only know that the miracle happened. After we had been there for what seemed a very long time, the realization came to us that something was happening. The ship was moving.

Jennet cried: “It’s over. The calm’s over.”

She lifted the hatch and stepped out, but she would not let me follow her.

“You stay there where you’m safe. I’ll come back.”

In a short time she returned.

Her face was shining with joy.

“It’s over,” she cried. “There’s a fine breeze. They’re all excited. Nobody’s thinking of you now. You’re safe.”

Yes, the miracle had happened.

What a glorious sight was a ship with its sails bellowing out in the wind, seeming to dip with joy into the ocean as she forged ahead. The wonderful wind was carrying us onward. The sea had become alive again. The calm was over.

Tension eased. There was too much to be done to give the men opportunities to plan mutiny. Orders were shouted and cheerfully obeyed; there was extra food and drink for all to celebrate; there was a thanksgiving service which we did not attend.

A week after the calm we sighted land. We first saw a snow-topped mountain far off, a landmark in the ocean.

The Captain said: “You should prepare to go ashore now. This is the end of your journey.”

We took our few belongings—they were not much, only the clothes we had made for ourselves—and we climbed down into the boat and were rowed ashore. We looked back at the galleon—majestic in the waters—and we knew that we had said good-bye to the old way of life and were embarking on the unknown.

At the Hacienda

ON THE SHORE A party of men with mules were awaiting us. We were clearly expected. I suppose our ship would have been sighted a day before it arrived. We had seen the conical snow-topped mountain jutting out from the ocean; very soon after they must have seen the galleon from the land.

The Captain, Richard Rackell and John Gregory were among the small party which accompanied us; and as I looked back at the galleon and thought of those days when we had lain becalmed and the terrible fear which had come to me then I could not suppress a feeling of relief and an immense curiosity and excitement. I believed that soon we would discover what our abduction was all about.

As usual I scanned the horizon for the sight of a sail, but there was nothing but an expanse of blue ocean.

The sun was warm, though it was only February. I looked at the others; Honey was within two months of her confinement; she had, in spite of everything, retained a certain serenity. Jennet had that bewildered look on her face; I supposed she was wondering whether her sailor would come ashore. He was not with the party but had remained on board ship. It was no doubt due to this that she felt this anxiety.

The Captain asked us to mount the mules. “We have some short distance to go,” he said.

We obeyed and we set out from the shore.

The animal’s progress was slow and it took us some two hours to cover what could not have been more than six or seven miles. The Captain called a halt at the top of an incline and from there we were able to look down on the town. On the edge of this he pointed out a large white building which appeared to be surrounded by parkland.

He said: “This is the residence of the Governor of this island, Don Felipe Gonzáles. The house is known as the Hacienda and it is there we are going.”

“For what purpose?” I asked.

“You will discover,” he answered.

Our mules carried on down the slope toward the town and the white house and at length we came to iron gates. These were opened by a man who bowed to us and we went through them into a drive on either side of which grew tall flowering shrubs, pink, white and red. Their heavy perfume hung in the air.

We came at length to the portico; three white steps led to a door, which was opened by a servant in yellow and black livery. We went into a hall which was dark after the brilliance of the sun outside.

We were taken to a small room and there we were left—the three of us—almost in the dark, for the tinted windows and heavy drapes shut out the sun.

We did not speak; our tension was too great. I had gathered this much: that I had been the object of the abducting. Jennet had become the mistress of one of the sailors and because he was a strong man and carried a knife she had had but one master; Honey would have been ravished but for the Agnus Dei at her neck and perhaps that aura of divinity or maybe her own witchcraft; but I had been guarded; the man who had dared touch me had suffered violent lashing because of it. So it was clear that the purpose of this mission concerned me.

The Captain returned. He spoke to Honey: “Have no fear. You will be looked after until such time as the child is born.” His voice was tender; there was a sadness about him. They smiled at each other. I knew there was a bond of love between them, a love that would never be fulfilled but which had touched their lives briefly and had meant something to them.

“Jennet shall be your maid while you need her,” he said. “Remain here.” Then to me: “Come.”

I followed him up a staircase. There was a strange brooding silence about this house. It was dark everywhere; it was full of shadows. I knew that something strange and dramatic was about to happen to me.

I followed the Captain along a corridor. The tinted windows threw a faint yellowish color into the gloom and I had the impression that the owner of this house wanted to shut out the light because he could not bear it to show what went on within these walls.

I had a desire then to turn and run. Where could I run to? How could I leave Honey and Jennet behind? But it was because of me that we had been brought here.

The Captain had paused before a door. He rapped lightly on it, someone spoke from within and we entered.

At first I could see little in that darkened room and then I was aware of the man. This was my first glimpse of Don Felipe Gonzáles. I felt the cold shiver run through my body. Perhaps it was a premonition, perhaps it was that there was something so forbidding, almost awe-inspiring about the man. He was not tall, compared with Jake Pennlyon, for instance, nor was he small for a Spaniard. He was dressed in a black doublet which was trimmed with fine white lace, his breeches were of padded satin, at his side was a short sword in a velvet scabbard, and never had I been aware of dignity such as he possessed, never had I seen eyes so cold. He would terrify by a look, this Don Felipe Gonzáles. His skin was of olive color; his nose large aquiline, lips thin, a straight line, cruel, ruthless lips.

He said: “So this is the woman, Captain.”

I knew enough Spanish to understand that.

The Captain answered in the affirmative.

He came forward and bowed to me, coldly, yet politely. I acknowledged his greeting.

“Welcome to Tenerife,” he said in English.

Because I was afraid I must answer boldly. “Not well come,” I said, “since I am brought here against my will.”

“I rejoice in your safe arrival,” he replied.

He clapped his hands and a woman came in. She was young—about my own age—considerably smaller, with dark skin and big dark eyes.

He nodded to her and she came toward me.

“Maria will attend you,” he said. “Go with her. We shall meet later.”

It was bewildering. The girl took me along the silent corridor. We came to a big room, dark as the others in spite of the big window. The heavy embroidered hangings shut out the light although they were not fully drawn. In the room was a large four-poster bed, about which hung embroidered curtains; the posts and canopy were finely carved; the coverlet of silk. The chairs were finely carved too, and there was a massive oak chest on one side of the room. On the wooden floor were two large mats of unusual designs. I had never seen such beautiful rugs.

I quickly discovered that Maria knew no English and that I could learn little from her. She drew me through a door which led from the bedroom and there was a toilet room such as I had never seen before. A sunken bath was in the floor and there were Venetian mirrors on the wall.

Maria pointed to the bath and to me; she pulled at my clothes and I could see that she was suggesting I should take a bath.

I was nothing loath. I felt I needed it; and I had a great desire to be cleansed of the all-pervading odors of the ship.

She disappeared and I unbound my hair and let it fall about me. She came back shortly with cans of water, with which she filled the bath. She pointed to me and I indicated that I wished her to leave me. She did. I locked the door, threw off my clothes and got into the sunken bath. It was a delicious sensation. I lay full length and let my hair fall into the water. Then I washed it and my body too and as I stepped up onto the tiled floor Maria was there holding out towels for me. I could not understand how she had come in, for I had locked the door; she saw my surprise and pointed to the curtains behind her. I realized there was another door behind them which led into the toilet room.

I dried my body and she brought scented oils, with which she massaged me. The scent was pungent, overpoweringly sweet like the flowers I had noticed in the drive.

She wrapped a toweled robe about me and spread my hair around me. She giggled and drew back and, throwing back the curtains, opened the door through which she had come.

The bedroom window opened onto a balcony and she beckoned me. I went out; it was small and there was just room for two or three people. I looked over the wrought-iron balustrade onto a patio in which grew highly colored flowers. There was a seat on the balcony. Maria turned it so that my back was to the sun; I could see the purpose was to dry my hair.

She hunched her shoulders as though amused and disappeared. I sat still shaking out my damp hair, in spite of everything enjoying the luxury of being clean again. It gave me courage. I had ceased to speculate as to my fate, for I was aware that I would know very soon why I had been brought here. I wondered what was happening to Honey and Jennet and whether the Captain had returned to his ship.

The warm sun was pleasant; I felt my spirits rising a little because I could not associate violence with the dignified man whom I had seen so briefly and who I knew was the master of everything here.

Maria came out; she felt my hair; she brought a comb and combed it, holding the strands of hair up to the sun’s warmth. I tried to ask what she knew, but it was impossible.

I was on the balcony for what must have been more than an hour. The sun was lower in the sky. It would be almost sunset. I calculated that it would be about six of the clock.

Maria beckoned me into the bedroom. There was a polished metal mirror and a chair before it. I sat down and she dressed my hair. She piled it high on my head and placed in it a comb very similar to the one I had bought from the peddler; and I felt it was symbolic in a way. That had been at the very beginning. Now we were at the climax.

She took a velvet robe from a cupboard. It was a deep mulberry shade and edged with miniver. There was something regal about it. She put it about me.

I said, “Whose is this, Maria?”

She giggled. She pointed to me.

“But whose before?” I asked. There was a faint perfume about it. The same as that of the oil with which I had been anointed.

She kept on pointing to me and I gave up the interrogation as hopeless.

There was a knock on the door. Maria scuttled to it; there was a hurried exchange of words. Then she came back and beckoned to me.

I followed her out of the bedroom along the dim corridor into a room. It was dark now; the sun had disappeared below the horizon and there was not the twilight we had at home.

Maria pushed me into the room and shut the door. I saw the table laid for a meal. There were flowers on it. Candles flickered in their sconces on the walls.

I advanced and I knew as I did so that I was being watched.

Don Felipe Gonzáles rose from a chair in the shadows and bowed to me.

I said: “Where is my sister?”

He replied: “We dine alone.” He took my hand and with a graceful gesture led me to the table.

I sat in the chair at one end of the table; he took one at the other end.

“We shall converse in your barbaric tongue,” he said, “for I am acquainted with it.”

“That will be an advantage,” I replied, “for I know only a few words of your savage one.”

“You will not indulge in useless vituperation. It will serve you ill.”

“I am a prisoner here. I know that. You can hold me here I have no doubt, but you cannot force me to silence or to speech.”

“You will learn grace and courtliness here. You will learn that pointless badinage will help you not at all.”

I was irritated by his habit of saying, “You will do this and that.” He made it sound like a command. I had the impression that he was stressing the fact that I was in his power and would be forced to obey him. It frightened me. There was something cold and implacable about him.

“We will eat now, and afterward we will talk. I will then explain what is expected of you.”

He clapped his hands and servants appeared.

They carried hot dishes, which they placed on the table. We were served with some sort of fish.

It smelled good after salt meat and beans and biscuits in which there were very often weevils.

“We call this calamares en su tinta,” he told me. “You will enjoy it.”

I did, marveling that I could eat with such enjoyment in such a situation and strange company.

He talked of the food of the countryside. “You will enjoy it when you have grown accustomed to it. Taste is a matter of cultivation. Custom plays a large part in what we enjoy.”

A kind of pork followed, served with tiny green vegetables which I had not seen before. “Garbanzos con patas de cerdo,” he told me. “You will repeat it.”

I obeyed.

“Your accent shocks me,” he said. “It is unharmonious.”

“You could not expect one of my barbaric tongue to speak yours well,” I retorted.

“You speak with wisdom,” he said.

“Then I have at last won your approval.”

“You will learn that words can be wasteful. You will eat and after that we will talk and you will learn the reason for your coming.”

I said nothing and ate the food. There were fruits afterward—dates and little yellow fruit which I learned were called bananas. They were delicious.

“You will want to know where you are. There is no reason why you should not. You are on one of the chief of a group of islands once known as the Fortunate Isles.”

“And were they?” I asked.

“You will not speak unless asked to do so,” he said. “These islands were in the far-off days called Canaria because when the Romans came here there were many dogs. They called them the Islands of Dogs. Now you will hear them spoken of as the Canaries and you will understand why. The dogs have disappeared. The islands were inhabited by a race known as the Guanches—a warlike people. There are some left. They are savages and stain their bodies with the dark red resin of the dragon trees. We have subdued them. The flag of Spain now flies over these islands. The French settled here first, but they were unable to keep order. We understood how important they were to our navigation. We did not fight for them; we bought them from the French and since then we have settled here and are subduing the Guanches.”

“At least I know where I am.”

“We are on the outskirts of the town of La Laguna, which we built when we settled here. You may be allowed to go into the town. It will depend on your behavior.”

While he had been talking the food had been cleared away; but the silver jug containing a kind of mead which we had been drinking was left on the table.

The door shut; we were alone.

“You will hear now why you are here and why your path has crossed mine. You are necessary to a plan.”

“How could that be?”

“You will not be impetuous. You must be silent. You would not wish to play your part without knowing why. Nor would I wish you to. I would not have you think that I resemble the barbarians of your island home. You will be quiet therefore and learn the reason for your abduction. You will be reasonable, pliable, do what is expected of you and therefore save yourself much trouble and degradation. I am no rough pirate. I am a man of breeding. I come from a noble family; I am distantly connected with the royal house of Spain. I am a man of taste and sensibility. What I must do is distasteful to me. I trust you will make it as tolerable as possible. I will continue.”

I bowed my head submissively.

“I am the Governor of these islands, which I hold in the name of Spain. I have told you how they came into our possession. They belong to Spain, as the whole world should and shall one day. But there are marauding pirates on the seas; and there is one nation which is particularly offensive to us. They have bold seamen, adventurers without grace, crude men who raid and pillage our coastal towns and ravish our women.”

“It is not only one nation who is guilty of these practices,” I said. “I speak from personal experience.”

“You will learn to curb your tongue while you are here. It is not seemly for women to use that organ so constantly. They should be gentle and gracious in the presence of their masters.”

“I have yet to learn that you are my master.”

“You have yet much to learn and the first lesson will be just that. You are here to obey me and that you will do. But silence, or you will rob me of my patience and you shall not know why but only that you must do as bidden.”

That did silence me.

“Let us to the point,” he said. “Five years ago I came here. I was betrothed to a lady of a noble family. Isabella was carefully nurtured and when I left Madrid she was a child of thirteen, too young for marriage, but we were betrothed. She would come out to me when she was fifteen. There were therefore two years to wait. Those two years passed and she was fifteen. She and I were married in Madrid by proxy. The King himself attended the ceremony. Then she set out on the journey from Spain. We prepared to receive her. Our true wedding would take place in the Cathedral of La Laguna within two days of her arrival. We were ready to receive her. The journey was long, for the ship had been becalmed for a week. You will know what that can mean. I waited eagerly and while I was waiting a message was brought to me that the Guanches were rising in another of our islands. It was imperative for me to leave La Laguna to sail across to the troubled island. I was there for three weeks; and in the meantime Isabella arrived. I was not there to greet her, but my household was in readiness. My young bride was received with honors; she was a bewildered child of fifteen, delicately nurtured, ignorant of life. I knew that it would be my task to teach her gradually and with care. But that did not happen. It was two nights after Isabella and her duenna arrived with their retinue that the pirates came. I was not there to defend her—my poor ravished Isabella—humiliated, degraded, terrified.”

I shivered. “Poor child,” I murmured.

“Poor child indeed, and you have not realized all. The effect on her has been terrible.”

There was silence—a great moth fluttered up suddenly from the curtains and flew to the candlelight; it flew madly around, singeing its wings until it fell. We both watched it.

“She had to be nursed back to health,” he said. “But that was something beyond our powers.”

“She died?” I asked.

He looked beyond me. “Perhaps it would have been better so.”

We were silent for a second or so. I was thinking of the leering faces of men during the calm; and I saw the poor little girl of fifteen in their power.

“I am not a man to accept insult and injury,” he said. “I seek revenge … nothing will satisfy me but revenge. I want an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. No more. But that I want and that I will have. Tell me that you understand.”

“I do.”

“You would feel as I if so wronged?”

“I believe I should.”

“There is anger in you. I sense that. It is good. It will make you pliant.”