The Necklace

by Carla Kelly

  Hanneke felt her heart lift to hear La Vieja’s assessment of the quiet man who had stood by her in other trying times. “And the dowry, too,” she added. “Isn’t that what is most important?”

  “If you insist,” La Vieja said, then moved to more practical matters. “I will find a black dress for you, dama, and a comb.”

  Hanneke waited, dipping a spoon into the wheat mush. Santiago had told her once that when food is available, you eat. She ate. La Vieja returned with a black dress and a comb. She helped Hanneke take off her bloodstained garment, shaking her head and sniffing back tears. “Señor Gonzalez deserved a longer life,” she said, which made Hanneke weep.

  She dried her tears and combed her hair until it was straight. La Vieja plaited it into two intertwined braids. “What is your name?” Hanneke asked. “I am remiss in not knowing. You have been so kind to me.”

  “Teresa Gomez,” La Vieja said. “My old fellow, God rest his soul, was a shepherd.” She paused in her weaving of Hanneke’s hair. “He would like to have seen this land free of caliphs and Almohades.” She patted Hanneke’s head and secured the braid with a leather string. “He liked Señor Gonzalez.” Her hands went to Hanneke’s shoulders. “We all did.”

  Hanneke rested her cheek on Teresa’s hand. “And I.”

  Time was passing. She stood up, happy that the dress was short enough for her, even if it was black. But then, she was a widow, at least for another few minutes. Even then, the matter must be kept silent.

  “I can trust you, Teresa Gomez?” she asked quietly.

  “With my life, dama,” La Vieja replied. “We villagers will help you all we can. Go. Marry another good man.”

  Hanneke easily found her way back to the nearly empty chapel. Antonio stood there, flanked by Carlos and Pablo, her true knight.

  One small matter slowed the proceedings, which, as she thought about it later, meant more than she knew at the time. Father Anselmo asked her full name. She nearly said Hanneke, then changed her mind. “It is Ana now,” she said firmly. “Just Ana. None of you Spaniards can say Hanneke, and for some reason, I don’t mind anymore.” She didn’t. It was one more small thing to discard.

  Father Anselmo chuckled. “Forgive us of our linguistic sins, daughter.”

  Hanneke knelt close to Antonio, her eyes closed. Tearless now, she mourned a good man, and begged his spirit, if it lingered nearby as the deceased were rumored to do, to know she was doing what he commanded. Then again, if it were anyone but Antonio, she would never have agreed to this startling turn of events.

  Antonio, you watched over me in my saddest moment, she thought, as Father Anselmo blessed them with long life and many children. I will be true and kind, and we will see what happens, once Spain is reconquered. I can promise no more.

  She felt it was enough. She opened her eyes to see Antonio watching her. “Are you well?” he whispered.

  She nodded. She was.

  They left by separate doors, the men to their horses. Soon she stood in the chapel with only Father Anselmo.

  “That was a serious morning’s work,” he commented, “and here it is, barely dawn.”

  “Did I do the right thing, Father?” she asked.

  “You did the only thing,” he replied firmly. “Now, my dear Señora Baltierra – I will still call you Señora Gonzalez because of secrecy –I will give you a copy of the marriage document soon. Keep it safe. There will be one for Antonio, as well, and Don Ruy Díaz.”

  “I will go to the women and see how I can be of use,” she told him. She took the priest’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you,” she said simply.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Hanneke knew she needed to see Engracia, needed to make some awkward truce with her. She had heard a newborn baby several times that morning, but her courage failed her. She remembered Engracia’s last words to her at Las Claves. You may not want to see me, Hanneke thought, as she walked toward the sound of a baby crying. All the same, we have to make some peace with each other, if we are to endure Las Claves.

  She waited in the courtyard first, hands clasped together, shivering in the cold, as the men mounted their horses, gathered their reins and filed out of the monastery, Las Claves on their minds.

  She waved to Pablo and Antonio, who edged his black horse out of the line. “Whether it is victory or defeat, I will send Pablo and Carlos back with news,” he said, bending down from his saddle, his words for her alone. “If it is victory, come on.” He looked at her in that all-encompassing way of his. “If it is defeat, ride to safety in Toledo. Don’t wait for anyone here, especially if El Cobarde tells you what to do. Never hesitate.”

  She watched his expression harden as he looked beyond her. “Felipe stands behind you in the shadows. Try not to be alone with him.”

  “The women will help me,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. Go with God.” Husband, please don’t be upset with me if I make a mistake and call you Santiago, on occasion, she thought. How does one forget?

  Antonio gave her a small salute and rejoined the line of march. She felt her courage dribble away as he rode out with the others. When Pablo looked back, she blew a kiss to him and waved, wondering if she would see any of them again. Her smile lasted until the army was out of sight.

  It might have lasted longer, but here came Felipe.

  “Señora Gonzalez, perhaps you and I can have some conversation,” he said.

  He stood too close to her. She stepped back. “Later. For now, I will go to the women and see if I can help anyone.”

  He dismissed them with a casual wave. “Oh, them.”

  “Yes, them,” she said, her irritation growing. “The wives of shepherds and muleteers, weavers and blacksmiths.”

  “Come with me to Engracia,” he said.

  He had her. She needed to see if there were any good feelings to salvage. “Very well.”

  She wouldn’t have minded his oily unctuousness as much if he hadn’t been joined by two men taller than he was, and scarred, one by smallpox and the other by knives. Hanneke shivered involuntarily, wishing they would move away, and not practically tread in her footsteps.

  “Amador and Baltazar,” Felipe said, with a casual wave of his hand. “They look out for my… interests.”

  “How fortunate for you,” she managed to say, hoping her voice didn’t quaver.

  “Here we are,” Felipe said, as she fought the urge to break into a run.

  There was no door on this cell, either, but it had more of a roof, at least some protection for a new mother and baby.

  She turned to Felipe and his thugs. “You all can wait outside. I would speak to Engracia alone.”

  Felipe turned sorrowful eyes on her, eerie in a disconcerting way because there was nothing in his face that indicated compassion. He might have been discussing his favorite hound. “They will be in the hall as you wish, dama. I will remain here with my dear sister. We would hate to upset Engracia, wouldn’t we?”

  “That is never my intention, Felipe.”

  He bowed to her, and she felt all the mockery. “I will sit over here out of the way, Señora Gonzalez. Oh, and look, here is Juana.”

  Hanneke nodded to the servant, who glared back. She tried to throw off a basketful of misgivings as she approached Engracia’s pallet, a far cry from the comfort of her bed at Las Claves. “May I join you, sister?”

  “If you must,” Engracia said, nothing in her voice of welcome.

  This will be a short visit, Hanneke thought. She leaned forward to look at Rodrigo, and couldn’t help a smile. “He’s beautiful, Engracia.”

  “What a pity his father will never know him,” Felipe said.

  How could Felipe be so quiet? He stood right behind her. There was nowhere she could move without pushing him aside.

  “Yes, it is a pity,” Hanneke said, reaching down deep for courage, even as
the hairs on her neck rose. “We know sorrow, do we not, Engracia?”

  “It wouldn’t have happened to me if your husband had not insisted that Manolo ride with the army!” she burst out, holding Rodrigo closer, as if fearing contamination.

  What did she dare say, with Felipe looming there and thugs in the hall? She remembered a brave man. “Engracia, I was there when Manolo came into the Great Hall in his armor, defying my husband to stop him.”

  “Santiago could have tried!” Engracia said.

  “He did try,” Hanneke said, determined not to raise her voice. “Manolo would not listen to reason.”

  Engracia burst into tears. She wailed until the baby in her arms began to move restlessly. “Felipe said Santiago forced him to ride! How dare he?”

  Enough was enough. Hanneke rose, sidestepping Felipe. She looked directly at the man, who could not maintain her eye contact, a small victory for her after days of defeat. “Felipe was not there. He was already hiding somewhere at Las Claves so he would not be forced to join the soldiers.”

  She could have said anything else, but she chose the truth. In the painful silence, Engracia stopped crying. “Felipe would never lie to me,” she said, but Hanneke heard no certainty in her voice.

  “I was there in the great hall,” Hanneke said, biting off each syllable. “I heard everything that happened. Believe what you will.”

  Borrowing courage from both of her husbands, one dead and the other riding to battle, she turned on her heel, skirted around Felipe and made for the hall.

  She wasn’t quick enough. Felipe grabbed her elbow. “Watch what you say, Señora Gonzalez.”

  Where was her courage coming from? “It is the truth, and you know it,” she replied. “Let go of me or I will…”

  “Will what? You have no champions here,” he said.

  No, I do not, she thought in fear. In that split second before she bolted and ran, she remembered something her father had told her once, when she came home in tears after a dog chased her. “Stand your ground, daughter,” was all he said. “Convince yourself and others will be convinced.”

  Very well, Papa, she thought. She jerked away from Felipe’s grasp and stared at him, not blinking. “You would be surprised about my champions,” she said. To her satisfaction, she realized that Castilian was a good language for defiance.

  She left the room just as she heard a welcome voice. “Dama? We have been looking for you! We have made the most wonderful stew. There are too many goats underfoot in this palace of ours. Come with us.”

  She sighed with relief to see La Vieja and two equally formidable-looking villagers bearing down on her. With a glare at the thugs watching them, Teresa Gomez took her by the arm and pulled her away, talking all the while about the treat waiting for them. “Smell that aroma? Today is Christmas!”

  She had forgotten. She had forgotten everything except Santiago dead in her arms, a cold ride to this ruin, a wedding as dawn was breaking, and the backs of all the soldiers riding away. “Christmas?”

  “Yes!”

  Hurried along by the women, they turned the corner and slowed to a walk. La Vieja did not loosen her grip on Hanneke, but she glanced over her shoulder and whispered, “One of the children saw you being led away by those men. We were worried.”

  “I wanted to see Engracia,” Hanneke said. Her relief was so great that her legs felt loose and disjointed. “They frighten me.”

  “You’ll stay close to us, dama, just as Antonio would want.” La Vieja’s eyes filled with tears. “And Santiago, as well. Come now. Let us feast. It’s a modest feast, but we have all seen lean times, have we not?”

  The women led her into a larger room. She looked around her at fading murals, wondering if this was the chapter house, where monks gathered to discuss the business of the monastery, sing, and mete out punishment. Now there were children, babies, goats and chickens. Her heart turned over to see Mama Cat and kitten who had accompanied Pablo and her to the killing grounds. The kitten kneaded her mama with little paws and sucked, while Mama blinked her eyes a few times at Hanneke in greeting.

  For all the noise, there was order, and warmth and friendship. She put her hands over her eyes and stood there until La Vieja led her to an overturned pail and sat her down. “In time, in time,” she crooned. “The pain changes, dama. It becomes easier to bear, I promise.”

  Other village women came close. She knew them – the worried mother with two little ones and the mule that refused to come in the gate, causing Hanneke all her trouble. Who in this gathering had not suffered? There was the young widow, and look, she had an infant in her arms. Hanneke nodded to her, “When?”

  “After midnight, dama, on Our Lord’s birthday,” the widow said. “I have named him Jesús, of course.”

  She saw kitchen children, and the widowed sister of Carlos. These are my friends, she thought, grateful.

  The stew filled her belly. The cooks felt charitable enough to give some stew to Felipe and his thugs when they stormed in, ready to demand. La Vieja held out a pail of stew for them. “You needn’t thank us,” the old woman said in her kindest voice. “Go, but please return the bucket.”

  They were kinder to Juana, who came in, asking for food for Engracia, and much kinder to Father Anselmo, inviting him to sit down and stay awhile. He ate a companionable bowl, then took Hanneke aside to give her two marriage documents, mere scraps of the formal document of her wedding to Santiago. “Keep these close. Make sure Antonio keeps one on his person, as should you.”

  She nodded and took the pages, written in a courtly hand that seemed not to belong in their rough and tumble setting. “Better times ahead, father?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “We are most optimistic people in Spain, because we have to be, daughter.”

  Who could deny that, especially on Christmas? Hanneke looked around her at friends and villagers. Her smile froze to see Juana watching the transfer of documents, a question in her eyes.

  Once Amador and Baltazar left, they sat all afternoon in warmth and friendship, some singing, the little ones dancing, and Father Anselmo clapping out a rhythm. When dusk came near, they heard a horse and the shouts of a rider.

  Everyone leaped up and crowded into the ruined courtyard, where snow fell lightly, covering many of the defects of their surroundings.

  “What news, Pablo?” Father Anselmo called. His arm was firmly clamped on Hanneke’s shoulders.

  Pablo sat tall in his saddle, even though his arm was bandaged and blood seeped through. “It is a victory. We have driven off El Ghalib,” he declared, his voice strong. In his confidence, Hanneke could see little of the kitchen boy from Santander who had been pushed from the dock, bullied by King Alfonso’s son, championed her when no one else dared, and never failed her, much like Antonio.

  “Is there a message?” Father Anselmo asked, as he helped Pablo dismount.

  “We are to leave in the morning and return home,” the boy said. “Las Claves is ours again.” His tired eyes brightened. “Not a man among us died.”

  Younger boys led away his horse to be grained and wiped down, while Pablo ate his way through one bowl of goat stew and another. When the others returned to their own corners to begin planning, Hanneke came closer.

  “Pablo, please tell me: Did El Ghalib keep his promise?”

  He nodded. “Once the Almohades were gone, that was the first place Antonio and I went. Señor Gonzalez lies next to Fermina, and Manolo also.”

  Hanneke bowed her head in gratitude and love. Thank you, Yussef El Ghalib, she prayed silently. I asked for far more than my necklace promise. You will be my friend forever.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Carlos joined them shortly after dark, riding more slowly, his wounded face obviously paining him. It was a ghastly attempt, but he managed to smile as a woman helped him from his saddle, supporting him and scolding him in
that way of women who care deeply.

  Hanneke smiled to see it was the woman about his age who had tended him in the great hall, after she could do no more for her son. “We will find you a bed after you eat,” she told him, as she tried to tug him into the monastery.

  He stopped her. “Señora, I need a moment with the widow of Santiago Gonzalez.”

  Hanneke knew mutiny when she saw it. She put a placating hand on the woman’s arm. “I will make him tell me quickly. I promise.”

  The woman backed away a few paces – but only a few – as Hanneke led Carlos to a bench outside the entrance. “Pablo told me that Santiago and Manolo were buried where I had asked,” she began. “Tell me of your victory.”

  “The older I get, the more I realize that nobody ever wins,” he said.

  “I am not that old yet,” she said, which made Carlos smile as much as his wound allowed. “You won. I am grateful.”

  He nodded, and winced from the pain of that alone. She heard the quiet triumph in his voice. “We surprised them and drove them out, dama. We chased them as far south as we dared. Antonio does not think we will see them again this winter.” He leaned back in sheer exhaustion.

  “You, my friend, are going to eat something and lie down,” Hanneke said firmly. “You will sleep. Tomorrow, if this kind lady and I feel like it, we will see that you return to Las Claves in a wagon.”

  He started to protest, then gave up. “This is no way to treat a warrior,” he grumbled. “Who am I trying to fool? You are a warrior, too, dama.”

  Hanneke sucked in her breath at the compliment, wishing with all her heart that Santiago could have heard this. “Thank you, Carlos. Isn’t it time you started called me Ana?”

  “Such a liberty!” he exclaimed, shocked.

  “Carlos! Besides that, I wish you had remained at Las Claves. You’re in no condition to travel,” Hanneke said, but gently. “Antonio can’t have agreed to this.”