"You must learn patience, my son," the priest advised. "The day will dawn when the true faith is restored to England. Until the glory of that day, you must spread our word to the devoted. You must make contact with others who still hold true to our beliefs and owe allegiance only to the pope. We must know of those we can trust to lend us aid when the time comes. By God's will we shall restore the faith. Until then, let the fires burn brighter and the blood stain the earth, and England will become an island of martyrs, and the heretics, spawned of Luther, will face eternal damnation," the Jesuit vowed, and the fanaticism in his voice sent a chill down Sir Basil's spine.
"By God's grace, Father, I will gladly sacrifice my life," the Englishman said, tears in his eyes. "I will tell the true believers of my audience with His Holiness, and of my meeting with His Most Catholic Majesty. Of His Majesty's promise to protect and defend our faith. And never to abandon our holy cause until England has been rid of the heretics and the harlot who wears the crown."
"Your ardor, my son, will bring us victory, but, for now, you must remain cautious. There are others who wait for a moment to strike. Even as we sit here, there are those in England who plan for the freedom of Mary Stuart. I have seen her letters, smuggled out of England at great risk, and know that she has the unyielding support of His Majesty. Unless you bring suspicion upon that dear lady, and upon yourself, you must remain the queen's loyal subject. You must play the game well, my son. Bide your time and the glorious day will come by your hand if others fail, for you are in a position of trust that we must protect. But take heart, my son, for I have spoken with those who are prepared to invade England upon the assassination of Elizabeth. They stand resolute. That will be our ultimate glory. And you must be prepared to meet that day. Guard yourself against reckless actions and thoughtless speech, and you will know the rewards of your loyalty to Philip and the true faith. Remember that well."
"I will, Father," he promised.
And I too will remember, Sir Basil vowed as he drew away from the stern window, the darkness engulfing him as he lowered himself into the warm waters gently lapping against the galleon's hull.
Doña Amparo died peacefully in her sleep. Her family and friends grieved deeply, for she had been a beloved wife and mother, and a true daughter of the Church. With death so close, Sir Basil's melancholy increased. Each day he nervously paced his room, his eyes anxiously searching the harbor for the familiar shape of the Arion sailing into port. But each morning he was disappointed. It was the feeling of helplessness that irked him the most. He had finally found the courage to act, to do what he had been sent here to do, and now he was powerless to do anything about his valuable information until Geoffrey Christian returned to Santo Domingo.
Of course, even had Geoffrey Christian returned several weeks ago, they still could have done nothing. To have left Santo Domingo so suddenly, when it had been obvious Doña Amparo had little time left, would only have caused suspicion in the already suspicious mind of Don Pedro.
However, Sir Basil speculated, if he felt frustrated in having to remain in Santo Domingo, so must Don Pedro and his passengers aboard the Estrella D'Alba. Don Pedro could no more have left Santo Domingo without causing comment than could Geoffrey Christian, were he here, Sir Basil thought in glum reflection of his predicament.
Although Don Pedro's presence at Casa del Montevares made Sir Basil nervous, he was thankful that the Spaniard remained. As long as the Estrella D'Alba rode at anchor in the bay, her passengers would be unable to implement their plot against Elizabeth. But Sir Basil was concerned, for now that Doña Amparo had died there would be no reason for Don Pedro to delay his departure from Santo Domingo. He would be surprised if Don Pedro did not announce plans for leaving Santo Domingo any day now. Catalina had already announced her intentions of remaining in Santo Domingo with her children while Don Pedro continued the rest of the journey without her.
Sir Basil was beginning to lose sleep worrying about what harm the two English traitors might cause before he could return to England and warn the queen. He was almost grateful to the priest for his words of caution to that young fanatic. The advantage, at least for now, was his, Sir Basil thought with a grim smile of satisfaction. Don Pedro did not know that his passengers had been seen and recognized, and when they returned to England, thinking themselves safe, they would be arrested. And that day would come soon, for if fortune were smiling on him, Sir Basil prayed, then Geoffrey Christian could not be far away, nor their return to England long off.
As it so happened, the Arion was one day's journey west of Santo Domingo when Sir Basil came down to dine that evening. Sir Basil was not looking forward to yet another meeting with Don Pedro, whose arrogance and rudeness were becoming exasperatingly difficult to accept without some response in kind. But as Don Rodrigo's guest, Sir Basil had been constrained to swallow many a cutting rejoinder about Don Pedro's own heritage. Should he, however, insult Geoffrey Christian's wife again, without Don Rodrigo coming to his daughter's defense, then he would not remain silent, Sir Basil promised himself as he took his seat at the long banqueting table.
Prepared to do battle, Sir Basil eyed the captain of the Estrella D'Alba as if taking sight along a cannon. But Sir Basil, even in his most satisfying imaginings, could not have foreseen the unexpected broadside that exploded in Don Pedro's lap as he sat sipping his wine.
"And how is Lily Francisa?" Catalina inquired with genuine concern. "I think she has taken the death of Madre very hard, si. I have not seen the child in the courtyard since the funeral. Always she would sit there by the parrots and talk to them. I could hear her laughter, and I am afraid so could my daughters. They wondered why their cousin was not napping or working her embroidery. I do not think they understand her."
"Lily does not enjoy so--so docile an occupation, I am afraid. Although she does know how to tie a reef knot and mend a sail," Magdalena admitted with a sigh. "I am concerned, however, for she has not said anything about what has happened to her grandmother. Lily is such an inquisitive child. I am constantly at a loss to answer her many questions. And yet, not a word about Madre."
"Your daughter, Doña Magdalena, would do well to remember not to speak until spoken to. She is impertinent, but precisely what I would expect from a child sired of an English father," Don Pedro remarked. "Since the inglés do not teach their offspring to have proper respect for either the Church or the Crown, it is not surprising that they show little respect for their elders. Should the child have come under my guidance, I would know how to curb her insolence quickly enough," Don Pedro predicted.
"Don Pedro, you are a guest in my home, please remember that," Don Rodrigo said harshly, for it was one thing to speak ill of his English son-in-law, but to criticize his granddaughter, a child he found to be quite charming, was quite another matter all together. "If you remember, she is my granddaughter, and the Montevares blood that runs through her veins also runs through your children's. In future, when you insult Francisca, or Magdalena, you also insult a Montevares," the old gentleman said proudly, his defense surprising his daughter as much as it had Don Pedro.
"My apologies, Don Rodrigo," Don Pedro said smoothly, "but I had forgotten for a moment that Magdalena was, after all, Spanish. She has adopted so many English mannerisms."
" 'Tis strange, then, that Her Majesty should still think Doña Magdalena so Spanish in appearance," Sir Basil remarked. "Of course, Her Majesty was complimenting Doña Magdalena on her graciousness of manner, attributing it to her Spanish upbringing. Quite naturally, she assumed that all Spaniards of good birth must be so refined. And, having enjoyed Don Rodrigo's hospitality, I have, until recently, seen no reason to disbelieve that assumption."
Catalina coughed and dabbed at her lips as she watched her husband's lips tightening ominously. Catching Magdalena's eye, she spoke quickly, "I thought I heard a scream and cries last night. Was it Lily Francisca? I know it was not one of my children, for I was up with Francisco half of the night. He does not like the dar
k, and he ate too much at dinner," she explained.
"If you would not baby him so, Catalina, he would act like a man and not a frightened mouse!" Don Pedro told her, despairing of ever weaning his only son from Catalina's excessive mothering. "He will never learn to stand on his own two feet if he is constantly clinging to your skirts, Catalina. I have decided that when I sail, Francisco will accompany me. He will learn--"
"It was Lily," Magdalena interrupted Don Pedro's threatened diatribe. "Ever since Madre died, she has been having nightmares about floating bodies and ships set aflame. She has even had the strangest dream about a witch with one blue eye and one brown eye who is--"
"¡Madre de Dios!" Don Pedro exclaimed as he choked on the sip of wine he had just swallowed. Coughing, he tried to catch his breath. Glancing around the table, his dark eyes didn't miss Sir Basil's relaxed and politely curious expression.
"Are you ill, Don Pedro?" he inquired solicitously.
"It is nothing, nothing. I will be fine," he said, but his complexion was still a pinkish hue.
"I am sorry to hear that Francisca is suffering so," Don Rodrigo commented. "If you would allow me, Magdalena, I will have a word with her."
"Please, Padre. I think it would help her. If Geoffrey were here, he would have her laughing at her fears. He always knows what to say. She is so terrified of this witch chasing her that I cannot even bring the subject up without her looking frightened to death. She keeps talking about those strangely colored eyes. How they stare at her with such hatred. She thinks the witch wants to kill her. She even said that this creature threw her into the water, and then stood on the edge of the pond and watched her drown. Which, of course, is nonsense, because Lily can swim. But she does not remember that when she is shaking with fear. I think she even believes that the witch is the cause of her grandmother's death. That is why she is frightened to speak of it. I truly believe she is petrified to mention it, lest the creature harm me, or Geoffrey, or even you, Sir Basil. She seemed concerned for your safety as well."
"How awful," Catalina murmured, clicking her tongue. "I myself should be scared senseless to be dreaming of such a horrid beast. And especially one with a blue eye and a brown eye," she said, crossing herself as a shiver shook her shoulders. Then her eyes grew round as she suddenly remembered where she herself had seen such a creature. "Why, do you know that sounds like" --she began to explain, then abruptly took a sip of wine, her eyes pleading with Don Pedro to forgive her for her slip of the tongue-- "like a fable we once heard."
"I wish that were true, but I am afraid that Lily has actually seen a man with such eyes. He's English and--"
Don Pedro turned purple in the face as he choked on his wine again, only this time his eyes bulged and he made strangling sounds as he sucked air into his lungs and sought to halt Magdalena's confidences with an upraised hand.
Sir Basil left his place and hurried around the side of the table. Several lusty, well-aimed slaps on the back had Don Pedro no longer choking, and soon he was breathing easier. Sir Basil remained behind Don Pedro for a minute longer, giving himself time to think, then he returned to his seat, his face mirroring concern for the discomfited Don Pedro.
"Are you quite sure you are well?" he asked. At Don Pedro's nod, he glanced over at his host. "I am so sorry, Don Rodrigo," he apologized, gesturing at his overturned goblet, the spilt wine leaving a vivid, red stain across the linen tablecloth. "I must have knocked it over when I stood up," he said, although both he and Don Rodrigo knew it had happened moments before.
"Please, do not concern yourself with that," Don Rodrigo entreated him, for Sir Basil, despite his calm visage, seemed ill at ease.
"Thank you, Don Rodrigo. Hmm," Sir Basil continued on a thoughtful note. "You say one blue eye and one brown, and he's an Englishman. Sounds familiar, but I cannot quite place the gentleman. He is a gentleman?" Sir Basil asked mockingly, keeping the conversation light.
"Yes, indeed. I cannot remember his name, but he was a guest at Highcross when Her Majesty and the court came last year for a visit. That is where Lily must have seen him, and now that she is upset with the death of her grandmother, she remembers him. For a child, such a person might be disturbing. It is all very confusing for the child. Time means little. Today, yesterday, last year, it is all the same."
Sir Basil didn't dare glance over at Don Pedro, for he had heard the deep sigh of relief that the Spaniard had breathed when Magdalena had so convincingly explained away Lily's nightmare about the creature with one blue eye and one brown.
"Indeed, Doña Magdalena. Why, my son, Simon, who is not more than a year or two older than Lily, has had some bloodcurdling nightmares. Woke up the whole household one night when he claimed that an Awd Goggie was lurking in the corner of his bedchamber. I had to search the whole room before he would settle back down. And then I had to leave a candle, and his nurse, by his bedside before he'd sleep."
"What is an Awd Goggie?" Catalina asked in fascination.
"A demon, and not one to be trifled with, Doña Catalina. They say, or at least according to Simon's nursemaid who had told him the story, that the sprite protects orchards from thieves. And it would seem that Simon had raided the apple orchard that very afternoon, and 'twas a stomach ache and a guilty conscience that had him dreaming such nightmares," Sir Basil concluded with a chuckle, successfully dismissing such stories, and among them Lily's, as nonsense.
Later that evening, Sir Basil, safe in the confines of his room, slumped down on his bed in a cold sweat. And it was Sir Basil who suffered the nightmares that night about a man with one blue eye and one brown. When Sir Basil awoke the next morning, he could not shake the strange feeling of melancholy that hung heavily about him. It was, therefore, with a sense of foreboding that he glanced out his window to see the Arion anchored in the harbor.
"'Od's heartling!" Geoffrey Christian exclaimed, and not for the first time since hearing of Sir Basil's daring exploits. "I should have stayed in Santo Domingo. There was more adventuring to be found at Casa del Montevares than off the coast of Nombre de Dios!" he said with another deep chuckle. He continued to eye his somber-faced friend, then glanced at the innocent-looking stern of the Estrella D'Alba anchored nearby, and the chuckle gradually turned into a rick laugh that had several busy crew members smiling as they went about their tasks.
"Ah, Basil, my old friend," he said, the laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"I am glad that you find the situation so amusing. What, pray tell, would have kept you amused had I met my death that night?" Sir Basil inquired, slightly offended that his friend should find such humor in what had been an emotional experience for him.
"I do apologize, Basil," Geoffrey said with a grin that should have warned Sir Basil of what was to come. "But I find myself wondering about the scandal it would have caused had you been washed up on shore in your underclothes. Whatever would I have said to Elspeth, or, 'Sdeath, to Her Majesty? For that reprieve alone, I am thankful you managed to get back to shore in one piece."
Sir Basil shook his head, for he would never fully appreciate Geoffrey Christian's sense of humor, but he was learning. "Indeed, better 'twas I than you, my friend. Think of the mortification it would have caused Don Rodrigo had it been his son-in-law who had been found washed up on shore and clad only in underclothes."
Geoffrey Christian grinned. But as he glanced again at the Estrella D'Alba, his smile faded. "So, it would seem that Don Pedro plans to sail with the tide on the morrow? And Doña Catalina and her children remain here in Santo Domingo," he mused. "I should be offended that the good captain sails immediately upon my arrival in Santo Domingo. I do believe he has taken a disliking to me."
"I was afraid the two of you would come to blows when you met accidentally in the entrance hall of Casa del Montevares. If it had not been for the presence of the ladies and the children I wonder if there would indeed have been bloodshed."
Geoffrey Christian smiled crookedly, his handsome, bearded face all innocence
. "I have no grudge against Don Pedro."
"I wish he could say the same. He looked as if he could scarcely contain himself from plunging his dagger into your heart, my friend. I would not turn my back on that gentleman," Sir Basil warned. "He disliked me so much that it was an effort for the man to acknowledge my presence, and I was just an Englishman he hated as a matter of principle, but you--you he hates with a personal vengeance."
"Well, I do believe I gave him some small cause," Geoffrey admitted modestly.
"Yes, I should say so. You blew his ship out from under him and stole his cousin's bride, if I remember correctly," Basil reminded him.
"You do, and I believe it was one of my most inspired decisions. I've yet to capture a finer prize. I have never regretted taking Magdalena as my wife. She is a remarkable woman, Basil. She is also the mother of my only daughter, and"--he hesitated as if considering his next words with great pleasure--"perhaps my son."
"Magdalena is with child?"
"Yes, she told me yesterday that she has suspected as much for the past couple of months. Magdalena has desperately wanted to give me a son. I have told her that Lily is enough, that I am not disappointed in having no male heir, but she continues to think I long for a son. I suspect, however, that she wants to make certain that my dear cousin Hartwell does not inherit Highcross."
"I do not blame her," Sir Basil said, for he cared little for Geoffrey's pompous cousin. "Please accept my sincere congratulations, Geoffrey."
"Thank you. And I shall rejoice whether I have sired a son or another daughter. 'Twould be nice, however, to have another Christian sailing the seas and making life hell for any Frenchman, Spaniard, or Papist who crossed his bow. 'Sblood, but I'd like to get my hands on those two cuckolds sitting pretty in the captain's cabin," Geoffrey swore, his green eyes glinting as he gazed across the water toward the galleon taking on supplies.
Wild Bells to the Wild Sky Page 6