Wild Bells to the Wild Sky

by Laurie McBain

  To their disappointment, however, the skirts had fallen discreetly back into place by the time Lily had reached the beach below. She seemed unaware of their crestfallen faces as she walked past, her attention focused on the forest beyond. When Lily saw the group of palms, where two grew so closely together that they seemed one, she knew she'd found the old path to the hut and the pool just behind.

  "The path lies here," she said, and the sailors quickly set about cutting a path through the heavy vegetation.

  Lily was amazed by its thickness. Like the sea, the island had reclaimed that which had temporarily been stolen from it. The familiar cries of parrots and wild birds filled the air as the interlopers disturbed the peace of the forest.

  If the sailors doubted Lily's decision to enter the forest through what had seemed an impenetrable tangle, they soon forgot those fears when the hut, sitting in a clearing, was sighted directly ahead.

  "Coooeee, Mistress Christian, ye be a born navigator," one of the sailors exclaimed in admiration.

  "Aye, a captain's daughter, she is," another one said, relief coloring his voice.

  But to Lily, the scene was anything but a relief.

  The hut that had given them shelter for so many years was little more than a hovel overgrown with vines. The frail walls had long since been blown in. The thatched roof had collapsed on top. To seal the destruction, a tall palm had fallen across the hut, crushing anything that had remained standing beneath its weight.

  "Well," Simon said shakily, unable to find the words to describe the scene.

  Lily nodded in understanding. "The first year we were on the island, a storm hit. I remember the winds were deafening and the rain fell in torrents. We were scared to death. We had to leave our hut and seek shelter behind the pool. There is a bank that rises higher on one side. When the storm was over, we came out of hiding and there was nothing left of our hut. It had blown away. For days afterward we couldn't even go near the bay because the waves were so high," Lily said, amazing Simon by their closeness to death on that particular occasion. "Later, of course, we found enough driftwood for a month."

  The sailors had already made their way around the rubble that had once been the hut and found their way to the pool. It hadn't changed. The waters bubbling up from deep in the earth were clear and cool. The area surrounding the pool was over-grown with grasses and thick vegetation, especially the high bank that overlooked the pool on the far side.

  Lily knelt down on the low bank where they'd once sat basking in the sun, and cupping her hands in the crystalline waters, she drank deeply. Quenching her thirst, she sat on the edge of the pool, gazing up at the clear skies overhead, the echoes of voices filling her mind.

  Simon stood watching her, wishing he could share her thoughts of another time, but he couldn't.

  "Lily, we're ready to return to the beach with these casks. They've been refilled," he said, hating to disturb her reverie, for this pool obviously held special memories for her.

  "You go on, Simon," she said, staring into the waters. "I won't be long," she added, glancing up with a smile.

  "All right," Simon said. After all, if anyone was going to get lost, it wasn't likely to be Lily. "I'll come back after I've reported to Valentine," Simon said, already beginning to sound like one of the crew. "If you don't mind?" he said, not wishing to intrude.

  "I would like that. I find myself remembering a lot of stories about Basil. Maybe you'd like to hear them?"

  "That would be wonderful," Simon said with a wide grin of pleasure, some of the sadness he'd felt when standing beside his father's grave beginning to fade as he thought of hearing about their life here on the isle. "Well, I'd better shove off or they'll have reached the beach before me," Simon said, glancing around to find that the sailors were already disappearing through the trees. In truth, he had no desire to walk alone on this island.

  Lily continued to sit by the pool. The warm, humid air was heavy with the spicy scent of pine and the almost overpowering fragrance of flowers, the brightly colored blossoms opened fully to capture the sun. Lily breathed deeply, stretching her arms high above her head and filling her lungs with the heady, perfumed air.

  A sudden thought entered her mind, and, unable to resist the temptation, especially since Simon would be some time in returning, she stood up and began to unfasten her bodice, removing the stiff silk that felt so confining and uncomfortable against her flesh. Her fingers worked quickly with the fastenings of her skirt, and a moment later she was stepping out of it. Her slippers and stockings had long ago been discarded. With quick efficiency, she braided her hair into two long braids and wove the ends together on top of her head.

  She was standing on the edge of the pool in her petticoat and chemise, when she heard a rustling nearby and glanced around quickly. She peered into the shadowy vegetation, but nothing moved in those cool depths. Even though she could not feel anything, she felt as if eyes watched her.

  "Choco?" she called softly, making the low sounds and the whistle that had used to bring him running to her when she beckoned.

  She stood unmoving, listening. In the distance, but moving closer, she heard the snapping of twigs and the rustling of branches.

  "Choco?" she called again, more confidently, the whistle piercing, for the noises were coming in the opposite direction from where Simon and the Sailors had disappeared.

  "Choco!" Lily called more loudly this time. She had hoped she'd catch sight of the jaguar. She'd never forgotten him through the years and had always wondered what had happened to him, if he still lived. She had even wondered if he might have missed them after they'd left the island. He used to crawl close to the pool and watch them from the undergrowth. She'd always known when he was near, sensing his presence even when he remained silent. And quite often they'd heard his cries late at night outside the hut, as if he'd remembered a time when he'd slept inside curled up beside her, his purrs rumbling through the small hut and keeping her awake.

  Lily smiled, thinking of Hartwell Barclay's dismay at the parrot and monkey when he'd first seen them. He would have been apoplectic if she'd brought her little tigre enojado back to England. She doubted Hartwell would have been doing any midnight wanderings with Choco prowling the halls of Highcross.

  Lily frowned disappointed, for there was only silence now. With a sigh, she turned away from the forest and sat down on the edge of the pool dangling her legs into the warm water. Slowly, she allowed the rest of her body to slip into the water, hardly disturbing it as she paddled back and forth, the light petticoat floating around her.

  Drifting dreamily through the water, Lily didn't see the dark shape that crept closer, making no sound through the shadowy undergrowth. A palm frond whispered with movement, but it could have been the breeze stirring it. A gaily colored parrot, with red and yellow and blue feathers, sat on a branch over-looking the pool, his curious eyes watching the scene below With a strident cry of warning, he ruffled his feathers and flapped his wings and flew to a safer perch deeper in the leafy branches overhead.

  It felt so peaceful to be swimming in the warm waters, feeling the softness embracing her, and banishing the horror she'd felt the last time she'd sat beside a pool, only to find the face of Raymond Valchamps reflected before her. The engulfing blackness and coldness she'd felt then was gradually being washed away by the brightness and warmth surrounding her now.

  Lily eyed the sky overhead as she heard a distant rumbling of thunder and remembered the darkening clouds she'd seen earlier far out at sea. She was surprised to hear thunder so soon. It usually took several hours for a storm to reach shore.

  Regretfully, Lily began to swim toward the bank, knowing she could delay no longer when she heard another clap of thunder, even closer now. Perhaps Valentine would allow them to camp overnight on the island. She might be able to return in the morning and bathe properly next time, she promised herself as her feet struck the sandy bottom of the pool and she waded toward the bank.

  The water was lappi
ng around her thighs when Lily suddenly froze.

  Some instinct kept her from moving, kept her standing perfectly still in the water. Her eyes gazed into the big cat's glowing amber eyes staring at her so intently from the shadows that had lengthened and darkened menacingly while she'd been swimming so peacefully in the pool.

  Choco, she thought, her heart pounding. He wasn't her little tigre encode any longer. During the three years they'd been away from the island, he had matured into a full-sized jaguar. Although he looked heavier and his muscles were even more pronounced than before, the dark fur with its black rosettes thick and shiny, he was still sleek and sinewy with unleashed power.

  Lily continued to stand in the shallows of the pool, mesmerized by the golden eyes that had narrowed into slits. She felt she could have reached out and stroked the broad, velvety nose. Long whiskers drooped to touch his wide paws, the claws just barely visible. He was sitting in a semi-crouch, his muscular forelegs short and sturdy, ready to bear his weight when he sprang forward to capture his prey. As Lily watched, he bared his fangs, the long, curved teeth gleaming like ivory against the blackness of his fur.

  His tail was twitching faster now, moving back and forth almost in irritation, as if he were undecided yet whether to attack or allow her to live. Lily knew that he was indecisive, because she'd seen Choco streak out of cover and catch a bird without hesitation, the poor creature never knowing that its death was imminent.

  But Lily continued to face death, aware that it was just a foot away, waiting patiently for her to make the wrong move.

  Anyone else might have dived dapper into the pool, but Lily knew better; Choco could swim.

  Choco hissed and made his hoarse cry when the thunder sounded again.

  The breeze carried her scent to him, she could see him sniffing the air and she was thankful now that she hadn't been bathing, the soap and perfumed oils masking her scent. And she hoped he remembered it.

  That she was still alive, unharmed, seemed to prove that he had remembered her, perhaps only something fleeting, but it was enough to have kept him from attacking her immediately.

  So intent were the two, with the thunder so loud, that neither Lily or Choco were aware of the Spanish soldiers who'd been slowly and silently approaching the pool where they saw only a beautiful, partly clad girl standing in the water, afraid to move.

  Beyond wishing to capture this woman for their pleasure, they had to take her captive to keep her from warning the English of their attack, for she had surely seen them passing by and, if not so frightened, would scream out for help.

  Another deafening roar filled the silence and the violence that erupted after that happened so quickly that Lily was never to remember exactly the sequence of events.

  When she'd finally become aware of the soldiers it had been too late to do anything, even to cry out a warning, although whether she would have been warning the jaguar or the soldiers, Lily was never to know. It mattered not, because Choco sensed the enemy closing in around him at the same time Lily saw them.

  The soldiers, however, did not know what it was that leapt out of the tall grasses, except that it must be from hell. A horrible, bloodcurdling cry sent a shiver up each man's spine, the bared fangs and claws that flashed past having every one of them praying for salvation.

  Diego Calderon, who'd remained near the trees along with Francisco Villasandro while his men apprehended the woman, yelled for his men to find their courage. Couldn't they see that it was just a tigre? he had cried out, trying to stop his men from fleeing like frightened sheep.

  The confusion, however, had given Lily the necessary time to climb out of the pool, and while the soldiers were halted on the far side of the pool, she ran toward the hut and headed for the beach to warn Valentine.

  Lily hadn't even gotten past the jumble of thatch buried beneath the tree entwined with thick vines when something grabbed hold of her and nearly swung her off her feet.

  Lily Francisca Christian stared up into the face Francisco Esteban Villasandro, never knowing that this was her cousin. All she saw was the face of a stranger. He was a handsome young man with brown eyes that were almost bronzed, reminding her strangely of Tristram's. His hair was black and he was dressed like a gentleman, not in a uniform like the others, nor did he wear the peaked metal helmet or carry a pike with its deadly spearhead.

  Francisco stared down into the woman's frightened eyes, and although they were the palest green he'd ever seen and her beauty was breathtaking, he was struck by the color of her hair. The dark red shade was identical to his youngest sister's. Little Magdalena, named for his mother's beloved sister who'd been lost at sea, possessed the same extraordinary hair.

  Francisco Villasandro blinked, for this woman had a look about her that was so tantalizingly familiar. So pure in line, he found himself thinking, almost the face of a madonna.

  Lily struggled to free herself from his young man's grip, even though she wasn't frightened of him, not the way she had been of the soldiers when she'd suddenly seen them.

  Loud sounds drifted to them from the other side of the hut. They heard the sound of gunpowder exploding, then Lily and Francisco turned to see the black jaguar sailing through the air as he leapt down from the tree that had fallen across the hut.

  Francisco stared in horror at the hellish creature. But his courage did not abandon him as he might once have feared. Before Lily knew what he'd done, he'd pushed her aside and stepped in front of her at the same time, shielding her body from the slashing claws and terrible fangs of the jaguar as it landed against his chest.

  The big cat had been driven into a frenzy of rage and fear by the soldiers who'd chased after him, banging their swords on their helmets, while the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air. In the distance the bellowing of thunder was deafening. Choco roared his rage, his golden eyes gleaming with hatred of his enemy.

  Francisco Villasandro felt a burning pain when the claws ripped through his shoulder, striking deep to the bone. He felt the cat's hot breath against his throat, but his scream of agony was short-lived as the cat's strong jaws closed about his jugular and severed it. Francisco, only son of Don Pedro Enrique Villasandro, knew no more pain.

  Lily sat kneeling beside the dead man, staring in disbelief at the blood flowing from his neck and shoulder. She looked up to see a flash of black disappearing into the trees, then there were only shadows.

  "¡Madre de Dios!" Diego Calderon muttered in horror when he came hurrying around the fallen tree to find his captain's son lying dead in a pool of blood.

  Simon Whitelaw looked down at his arm in surprise, touching the red blood seeping from the wound. Except for the uncomfortable stinging he had only momentarily felt, he would never have known he'd been shot.

  He'd felt the tingling sensation shortly after the lookout stationed at the point of the headland had cried out a warning of sighting a strange sail on the horizon. Then they'd heard the distinctive sound of cannon fire, although to the unwary it might have sounded like thunder.

  But to Valentine Whitelaw, who'd been watching the last of the treasure being loaded into the boat, it meant the Madrigal was being fired upon. He paused, then smiled slightly when he'd heard the Madrigal's response in kind. When hearing that first shot, however, he had glanced around more in dismay than surprise, as if he'd half been expecting such a warning to be sounded.

  While several of the Madrigal's crew armed with harquebuses had returned fire against the soldiers appearing over the headland, holding their attackers at bay, Valentine Whitelaw had ordered his men into the boat. Then he'd signaled to the Turk, who had already been running to his captain's side. Looking startled by the order his captain had given, he'd nonetheless accepted the journal and the other leather-bound book that Valentine had handed to him. Tucking the two books inside his caftan, he listened attentively to his captain's quickly spoken words. Once, he shook his turbaned head, and then nodded when Valentine Whitelaw's words sharpened, but there was a look of disapproval
on the Turk's harsh countenance as he obeyed his captain and climbed into the boat, taking his seat at the stern.

  For the first time, Valentine Whitelaw became aware of his nephew's condition, for Simon Whitelaw had come to stand near him, but he had not complained or even mentioned his injury while Valentine had been giving his orders to the Turk and the rest of his crew.

  "Simon!" Valentine now said, staring in disbelief at his nephew's bloodied arm. "Good Lord, lad, you've been hit," he murmured, and before Simon could protest, he'd lifted him clear into the boat, a couple of the mates reaching out to take the lad into their care.

  "See he gets proper attention once back aboard, Mustafa! He is in your care. Now row, damn you! Don't let them catch you sitting here on your oars!" he called, pushing with all of his might against the boat to get it well beyond the pull of the tide.

  "Lily!" Simon hollered, trying to turn around in his seat. "She's at the pool. I left her there, Valentine! She's all alone! We can't leave her! She will have heard the cannon fire! She will be frightened! She's in danger, Valentine!" he called back, wincing instinctively as another deafening roar filled the air. "We can't leave both of you here! Stop! Don't leave them!" Simon said frantically, and would have jumped into the surf had it not been for the Turk's restraining arms. "He's your captain! You can't sail without him!" Simon said indignantly, not seeing the Turk's grieving face.

  "I'll find her, Simon!" Valentine called, already running along the shore, for with his men in the boat there was no longer any return fire to keep the troop of soldiers from descending the headland.

  Simon Whitelaw watched helplessly from the boat as it cleared the surf and was rowed with what seemed inhuman strength toward the Madrigal.

  Valentine Whitelaw watched helplessly from the boat as it cleared the surf and was rowed with what seemed inhuman strength toward the Madrigal.

  Valentine Whitelaw had nearly reached the headland separating the cove and bay, passing by the tall pine where Lily had kicked off her slippers and thrown her stockings and garters to the winds, when he spied a small party of Spaniards descending from the slope. And walking amongst them was a girl in no more than her petticoat and chemise; it was Lily Christian.