Wild Bells to the Wild Sky

by Laurie McBain

  "With the cooperation of a few good friends, I set a trap of my own, my lord," Valentine Whitelaw responded, then glanced to where Elizabeth sat, lost in thought.

  "With Your Majesty's permission, I would ask leave to accompany your guard when arresting this other . . . traitor."

  Elizabeth nodded, rising to walk over to the window to stare out on the green banks sloping down to the river.

  "I have resisted, until now, believing those allegations you brought to Lord Burghley. I could not believe such treachery could exist so close at hand, but time and time again it has been proven so," she said, remembering others she had trusted through the years who had betrayed her and tried to seize her crown.

  Turning from the window, she was momentarily silhouetted against the light and Valentine Whitelaw realized how very frail Elizabeth suddenly seemed. So accustomed had he become through the years of her reign to seeing her raise a bold face to the world, to hear her damning oaths or rich laughter fill a room that he had forgotten that she was an aging woman. The thick white powder she covered her face with could not hide the lines spreading out from her eyes nor conceal the finely wrinkled and sagging skin of her neck, and the rouge pained unsparingly on her sunken cheeks could not replace the natural color of a young girl's blush. This was a woman who was growing tired of subterfuge, fearful of assassination plots, and of losing friends and companions to death. At this moment, with her usual bravado gone, her queenly duties weighing heavy on her thin shoulders, she looked no more than a weary woman faced with her own mortality.

  "I believe Sir Raymond has been making preparations to attend a masque at Riverhurst this even and since both or our traitors are certain to be in attendance, we could, if we miss Sir Raymond here, apprehend Valchamps and--"

  "Never again mention either name while in my presence!" Elizabeth interrupted, her voice shaking now with a rage. "God's death, but I will hear nothing further concerning this matter until both traitors are lodged in the Tower!" she swore, and with her dark eyes burning with rekindled fire and her head of red-gold curls raised proudly, she left the chamber, her maids of honor, ladies-in-waiting, and flustered officials hurrying after her, each praying he or she would not draw her notice and anger Her Majesty further, for her voice was raised shrilly in oath after bloodcurdling oath.

  Lord Burghley waited a few minutes longer, until the corridor beyond was almost empty. "Come, I will get you a horse. A moment, please, and I will see to the warrants," he said, guiding Valentine along the corridor.

  "I will need three horses, my lord. Mustafa, my manservant and self-appointed bodyguard, will not allow me to leave without him. He would run behind my mount rather than be left behind. And my nephew, Simon Whitelaw, will of course wish to see his family at Riverhurst."

  Lord Burghley nodded his agreement. "Of course. And Mistress Christian? She is well and in London?" he required politely.

  "No," Valentine Whitelaw replied almost regretfully, his finger straying to touch the smoothness of the pearl he wore in his ear. "She is at Ravindzara."

  "Your home in Cornwall? Ah, that is wise. Now, tell me how it is you escaped the trap I am certain was set for you. I have information that Don Pedro Villasandro sailed from Madrid within a few days of the Madrigal's sailing. there was a rumor, merely hearsay, of course, that he was going to rid the world of a bold Englishman called El Tigre. Anyone I know?" Lord Burghley asked softly, his curiosity as yet unsatisfied concerning that point as they walked along the corridor until their two figures disappeared from view.

  Lily Christian stood looking out the windows of the great chamber. She could see the sea in the distance and she longed to spy the Madrigal's sails against the horizon and know that her captain had returned to Ravindzara.

  How many days had it been now, she wondered, since the Madrigal's lookout had first sighted the shores of England? With every league that had passed while the Madrigal had closed the land, Lily had sensed Valentine's growing impatience. Lying along the land, the Madrigal had anchored and a boat had been sent ashore. Valentine had brought the Madrigal in close, to hug the shore, so the boat would not have to be rowed a great distance. It took a good crew to make it ashore through the rocky mouth of the small cove, but Valentine had not had the time to dock in Falmouth and travel by land to Ravindzara. But fortune had been smiling and the boat had been safely beached in the cove below the cliffs near Ravindzara. Valentine and Lily, the Turk and Simon, and several of the crew had climbed the narrow path to the cliffs above. They'd hurried across the wide stretch of lawns, traveling the short distance through the parkland to where the brick paths meandered through the terraced grounds surrounding Ravindzara.

  It had been late afternoon, and through the coolness of the shadows deepening along the walled gardens they had reached the great hall of Ravindzara. This time, upon entering, Lily felt a welcoming warmth engulfing her, which contrasted sharply with the cold emptiness she'd felt when seeing Honoria Penmorley standing in the hall to greet them the last time she entered Valentine's home.

  The hall was filled with voices raised in merriment. A cheerful fire was burning in the great hearth, where a large mastiff was stretched out before it warming himself against the afternoon chill. Mouthwatering aromas of a meal in full preparation drifted through the hall and the great table was being set with silver plate that gleamed invitingly in the firelight.

  A trio of jesting footmen were lowering one of the circular chandeliers fro the beamed ceiling, their at times ribald comments spoken loud enough to cause a blush to color a comely maid's cheek and draw a disapproving glance from Quinta Whitelaw, who was arranging an elaborate centerpiece of a ship of sugar paste, with marchpane figures of animals, candied fruits, and confections surrounding it, in the center of the trestle table.

  Two children and a curious monkey sat in a row on the long bench, watching her every move as she arranged the intricate display.

  "Now, Tristram, you may place the flags atop the Madrigal's masts," Quinta said, holding out three little white flags stained with berry juice to resemble the red cross of St. George. "Be careful, dear, for they are very fragile. If you break one, well, I suppose you will have to eat it, but 'twould be nicer to do so after your dinner."

  "I'll be careful, Aunt Quinta," Tristram said, leaning forward to place the flags in proper position.

  "When do I get to put something on?" Dulcie asked, her dark eyes wide with concern as she watched Tristram nearly knock off the Madrigal's bowsprit, which had been fashioned from a cinnamon stick. "What happened to those raisins that were here a minute ago? And the dates are gone too! Did you eat them, Tristram?"

  "Me?" Tristram asked indignantly.

  "Cappie!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at the monkey disappearing beneath the table.

  "Wonderful, Tristram," Quinta complimented the beaming boy. "Now, my little on, you have the honor of putting the figurehead into position," Quinta told Dulcie, who squealed with pleasure before staring in openmouthed wonder at the beautiful marchpane sea maid, the tiny body sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and nutmeg.

  Raphael had opened a curious eye and raised an offended ear at the high-pitched sound, but when he spied the people standing near the door, he stood up, barking loudly until he recognized them as friends.

  "Lily!"

  "Valentine!"

  "Simon!"

  The three voices chorused, causing Raphael to begin barking with renewed vigor, his tail, wagging so enthusiastically, nearly sending one of the marchpane figures to the floor, where it would have quickly disappeared.

  Valentine Whitelaw caught Dulcie's flying red velvet-clad figure and swung her high into the air before hugging her tight while she placed a kiss against his bearded face. Tristram's greeting began a bit more sedately, but soon he'd given in to his emotions and returned Lily's embrace with a bone-crunching hug of youthful exuberance.

  "I swear you've grown a foot taller since I've been away," Lily said, eyeing her brother up and down as if
she'd never seen him before.

  "I'm glad you're back, Lily," he confided, "I've missed you. Will you tell me all about the island? What it looks like now?"

  Quinta had remained slightly back, watching the scene with satisfaction, but upon encountering Valentine's gaze, her expression had altered subtly.

  "Welcome, my dears! Come in! You much be fatigued," Quinta said, sending a couple of maids and one of the footmen to the kitchens for refreshments. "You have ridden all the way from Falmouth?" she inquired, kissing Lily's cool cheek, then Simon's, much to his surprised dismay until she touched her lips to Valentine's, cheeks too, and he hadn't seemed to mind.

  "No, we came by boat," Simon responded, not realizing how impudent that sounded until he saw Quinta's surprised expression. "The Madrigal lies just off shore, Aunt Quinta," Simon explained, eyeing the empty door to the kitchen impatiently. "We are on a mission of some importance."

  "How is Artemis?" Valentine asked, calling one of the footmen over to have a word with him before he moved closer to the hearth.

  Quinta smiled. "I fear we worry to much. She is far stronger than any of us allow her to be. Until the latest storm brought in such cool weather, she was taking a stroll every day. Difficult though 'twas-her time is very close now-she would not be denied her breath of fresh air as she calls it," Quinta said with a shake of her dark head. " 'Tis Sir Rodger I am most concerned about. I've never seen a more nervous gentleman. Of course, 'tis his firstborn, and if a son, then heir to the Hall and the great Penmorley name. What a responsibility," Quinta remarked, and whether she intended it as a sarcastic rejoinder or not, one could not be certain.

  "Ah, here we are. You must be famished. Supper will not be ready for a while yet, but we’ve some freshly baked bread from this morning, and some meat and cheese from yesterday. 'Twill hold you till supper."

  "I'm sorry, but I haven't the time, Quinta," Valentine said abruptly as the platters were placed on the table, and when Quinta looked questioningly at him, he drew her aside and they stood in quiet conversation for some time.

  Lily could remember her start of surprise to learn that they would be leaving Ravindzara so quickly. She had thought they would stay overnight, or at least for a couple of hours. She did not like to admit that she was tired, but she found herself huddling close to the fire, trying to soak up some of its warmth.

  When Quinta had suggested she might wish to freshen up before eating, thinking they had very little time, she had quickly followed Quinta upstairs to the chamber she'd slept in before, where her trunk had been stored. She had planned to wash, then change her clothes, before returning to the hall for a light repast. They would soon be reboarding the Madrigal for the rest of the journey to London. She had been somewhat dismayed, therefore, upon taking her place at the table to find that Valentine had left for Penmorley Hall.

  But she'd had little opportunity to think further upon it, for Tristan and Dulcie had been full of questions about the voyage and the island. She'd had no difficulty in recounting the first part of their voyage or when they'd stepped ashore on the island after a three-year absence. Her vivid memories of it had filled the room with the feel of the warm, turquoise waters of the cove and the white sands of the beach, the seductive sounds of the palms whispering in the trades above tall grasses bringing an aching sigh from one of the footmen who'd often thought of trying to join the crew of the Madrigal.

  Soon, there had been a stillness in the hall, for all of the servants had gathered close to hear the tale. Slowly, as if difficult still for her to relive, Lily had told them of the young, unknown Spaniard who'd died saving her life when the jaguar had attacked them. Dulcie's squeal when Choco's name had been mentioned had caused more than one of the servants to jump nervously and had sent Cappie scurrying back under the table. Then, hurriedly, Lily had recounted when she and Valentine had escaped their captors and dove into the water to find the passage to the cave. She couldn't hide, however, her blushing cheeks when she'd ended her tale rather too quickly with the sighting of the Madrigal's sails.

  Luckily, Tristram was more than willing to answer the countless questions about the underwater passage through the coral and the cave where the treasure had been hidden for so many years. Once, Lily had glanced up to find Quinta's speculative gaze on her, but then Quinta had smiled and turned her eyes away when Simon had taken over the tale, for this was when the real adventure had begun, he'd said, delighting his listeners with his highly personalized account of the sea battle he'd been engaged in while aboard the Madrigal. He had the scar to prove the danger of the situation, for he'd been shot; a comment which had had Quinta hovering over him embarrassingly, especially when he'd rubbed his arm for effect.

  But he had soon calmed her worst fears and resumed the tale where Lily had left off.

  "After I was wounded, I had to leave the isle, for I could no longer be of any use to the captain, but I did so under protest, for Lily was still missing. Had I known the danger she'd been in I would never have gotten into that boat," he stated firmly. "We had almost reached the ship when we saw the captain taken prisoner by the Spanish. They already had Lily. I thought the Turk was going to jump overboard but he'd been given his orders by the captain and he could do nothing but stand on the deck and stare toward shore," Simon told them, and, glancing around just to make certain that the Turk had gone with the captain to Penmorley Hall, he added, "and I've never seen such a mean look in anyone's eye.

  "Well, the first mate had his orders too, and it surprised me to see the Madrigal cut her anchor and run. I couldn't believe that we were leaving the captain and Lily at the mercy of the Spanish," Simon said, still disturbed by the thought. "But there were three galleons giving chase and if we hadn't sailed we would have been blown from the water. We sailed away from the island, then entered this narrow channel leading toward another island to windward, but the galleons seemed to be closing the distance and their cannon fire was falling awfully close. Thought they were going to overtake us. Didn't seem to me we had enough sail," Simon said, his voice breaking with excitement as he remembered his own fears at the time, standing on deck and watching the Spanish sails closing on his ship.

  "Then, rounding this headland, we sailed right into the ranks of three English ships lying there in wait. I've never been so happy to see the red cross of St. George in my life! The sailors on board cheered when we reached them and sailed right past to leave the Spaniards to fall foul of them. We were almost close enough to see the Spaniards' surprised expressions too when they realized that they'd been tricked. The Madrigal hadn't been running scared, she'd been leading them into a trap. She'd wanted them to follow," Simon said with a chuckle of remembered glee.

  "Well, fancy that, them English ships bein' there," one of the footmen said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "Well, of course they weren't just there," said another, slightly older man. "The captain knew all along there was goin' to be trouble"

  "He did, Zeke?" another footman asked.

  "Well, of course he did, he's the master, ain't he?"

  "Reckon so."

  " 'Tis true, Tom. He's the smart one, he is. Always rememberin' our names." Willie agreed with a knowing look in his eye.

  Simon Whitelaw stared in amazement at the three before continuing. "The English ships opened fire on the galleons. We've got long-range cannon, and you should have seen the masts splintered on board those galleons. They couldn't even get off a raking broadside, but we fired and fired, and the smoke filled the air. By the time we finished blowing away half of their decks there wasn't much fight in them, especially their commander aboard the Estrella D'Alba, and they turned tail and ran. We had the best position. Had the weather gage and we, and the other three ships, went in pursuit. What a fight!" Simon crowed, his dark eyes glowing with happiness, for it somehow made him feel better to think that this time it had been the Spanish who'd been beaten, instead of lone English ship like the Arion ten years earlier, especially since one of those galleons had been
captained by the man who'd helped sink the Arion--Don Pedro Villasandro.

  Lily smiled, remembering how excited she’d been to see the Madrigal’s sails just beyond the cove. She could also remember seeing Simon waving wildly to them from the boat being rowed ashore, forgetting in his excitement his injured arm and to keep his seat. If it hadn’t been for the Turk’s restraining hand, Simon would have nearly fallen overboard again.

  She could remember turning to Valentine, who’d been smiling and hadn’t seemed surprised to see his ship’s return. But then, he’d known all along what had been planned. When Simon had raced ashore with his news and the revelation that one of the ships had been the Estrella D’Alba, captained by Don Pedro Villasandro, she had been startled, for it had seemed as if history was repeating itself—only this time they had won the battle, not Don Predro Villasadro.

  Lily frowned slightly, remembering a strange look that had entered Valentine's eye when Simon had spoken of the Estrella D'Alba's retreat, as if her captain had suddenly turned coward. The Madrigal's first mate had been stunned by the Estrella D'Alba's sheering off, because she'd left the other galleons fighting alone. Simon had shaken his head, saying that the Spaniard only liked a fight when the odds were in his favor, and this time he'd gotten more than he'd bargained for. But Lily could have sworn she'd almost seen an expression of pity enter Valentine's eyes when he'd said that a man could lose something far more precious to him than a battle or his pride. Sometimes, when the losses were too high, the fight went out of a man.