by Shirl Henke
“I am certain I could have no better champion than you, Cristobal—nor at this moment, a better dancing partner.” Miriam placed her hand on the youth’s arm. Smiling and nodding to Elzoro and her father-in-law, she escorted the stunned boy away, all the while assuring him that he would cut a dashing figure on the ballroom floor.
Fray Bartolome had observed the whole interplay between Elzoro and the Torres family from across the room. If Rigo's suspicions about the planter were correct, Miriam had just rescued her young brother-in-law from grave danger. Smiling beautifically, he approached the stocky, sandy-haired planter who stood alone, stroking his beard, a brooding expression on his blunt features. “Ah, Don Esteban, just the man I have been hoping to find.”
The planter bowed politely, although he seethed inwardly at the meddlesome priest. “Fray Bartolome. It has been a great while since last I saw you—before you took the vows which locked you behind the gray walls of the Dominican monastery in Santo Domingo.”
“They do on occasion allow me outside, Don Esteban.” Las Casas' voice was laced with gentle irony. “I was summoned here to baptize the Torres heir since they have no priest on the Vega.”
“And to minister to your suffering Indians?” Elzoro could not keep the edge from his voice, no matter if this priest did have the ear of the Council of the Indies.
Las Casas chuckled good-naturedly. “The Taino people have no need of a champion here. I will remain a few days and visit them, performing baptisms, marriages, all else that is asked of me, then return to the monastery. Tis about my return journey that I would speak with you. Your hato lies directly on the road back to Santo Domingo. Would it be an imposition to ask hospitality overnight before I return to the capital?”
“Certainly not. I would be honored, Fray Bartolome. But I must caution you. I keep slaves and they are not tame like these Tainos. You must promise me to stay clear of their quarters lest harm befall you.” Snooping troublemaker. I will allow you no run of my hato to question the savages about their lot!
Nodding in understanding, Las Casas smiled and replied serenely, “I assure you, Don Esteban, I shall make no criticism about how you treat your field slaves.” Tis what lies within your house I would see.
Rigo smiled sardonically as he watched Bartolome ingratiate himself with the crafty Elzoro—Elzoro, Spanish for fox, as was Reynard French for the same common surname. Soon, you crafty fox, your days of thievery will be at an end.
His eyes wandered then from his enemy to his wife. How magnificent she looked, easily the most beautiful woman in the crowded room. The smoky lavender of the amethysts matched the silvery glow in her eyes. Watching her dance, he felt his loins tightening. Tonight. He strode purposefully across the floor toward her just as the dance ended, bowing formally to young Cristobal and drawing his wife's hand into his.
“Twas an abrupt dismissal of your poor brother, my lord,” Miriam said, her expression not at all displeased.
“Come, let us quit the dance and the press of this crowd for a while. I would have you to myself.”
As he led her out an open door into the cool night air, Miriam felt a prickle of goose bumps run down her arms. Not the cold, but rather the heat from Rigo's scorching expression caused her to shiver in excitement.
Rigo led them into the shadows of a huge oak tree, letting the moonlight spill all around them, casting a lacy pattern on their faces. He took Miriam in his arms and whispered, “Your eyes make the moon pale in comparison.”
“Always you have seen beauty in me, desired me when I see but a tall, thin woman with plain gray eyes.”
His hand cupped a breast heavy with milk, and he laughed a low, wicked laugh. “Not so thin, I think,” he said, feeling the nipple harden beneath his skilled fingers.
Miriam clung to him, putting her arms about his neck, allowing her head to fall back, baring her throat as he brushed it with warm, firm lips. His mouth and tongue left a trail of fire from her throat across her collarbone, then lower to nuzzle the deep vale between her breasts. When he slid the shoulders of the gown lower, baring more of her cleavage, she remembered another night of drugging passion in a moon-drenched garden back in Marseilles when he had done just this. Only now it was his right. He was her husband and she loved him. A small animal cry tore from her as he freed one nipple and took it in his mouth.
Rigo could feel her trembling and melting against him. When she cried out his name and ran her fingers through his hair, urging him on, he felt a savage thrill of possession...and love.
Just as they lost themselves in a maelstrom of passion that would obliterate the outside world, the sounds of an animal bounding toward them interrupted, followed by a familiar voice.
“Vero, by all the saints, stay!” The man caught up with the large gray wolf, who obediently halted and stood beside his master. In the moonlight, Benjamin Torres' face seemed harsh and angular as he bowed before his brother and Miriam. With an irony more appropriate than he could ever guess, Benjamin said stiffly, “I do seem to have the habit of discomfiting you two.” His smile was a mockery.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Miriam struggled in mortification to cover herself as Rigo stood protectively in front of her. Eyeing the wolf, he said, “You travel with strange pets, brother.”
“Vero will not harm you or your wife,” Benjamin replied stiffly, feeling both embarrassed and angry at the scene he had blundered upon.
Rigo stared dubiously at the wolf, who sat obediently at Benjamin's side, eyeing the stranger with curious golden eyes. “I am glad you have decided to return home, Benjamin. Father and Magdalena will be overjoyed.” His brother's face, once so open and trusting, had become as harsh and shuttered as his own. I did this to him.
Benjamin's expression finally betrayed a hint of emotion. 'Tis good to be back on Española, but I have not returned to settle in the bosom of my family. There is a grave matter I must speak to our father about—is he within?”
“Both Aaron and your mother are in the hall, Benjamin,” Miriam interjected softly. She knew the fiery flush in her cheeks must surely be visible even in the moonlight.
Benjamin sketched a bow to her. “Congratulations on the birth of your son, Miriam. You, as well, Rigo.” He knew his voice sounded hollow and perfunctory, but he was too distracted to worry about their reactions. Turning to the wolf he commanded, “Stay, Vero.” Then he strode past them and vanished into the house.
Miriam looked at Vero and shivered, then moved closer to Rigo. Taking her arm protectively, he escorted her toward a rear entrance to the house. “You had best repair your hair and clothes. I will see what misfortune has brought my brother home.”
Silently she followed him, then fled upstairs when he turned toward the noise and revelry in the great hall. How can I ever repair our marriage now that Benjamin has returned?
Rigo found Aaron and Benjamin closeted with Magdalena in Aaron's big library. Benjamin was pacing across the thick Turkish carpet as he told his tale. He wore sword and dagger like a soldier, and had shed the magister’s robes.
“So you see, when Uncle Isaac's agents made inquiries at the wharves, they found this corsair was headed to Española. I searched Santo Domingo with help from the virreina. We could find not a trace of Le Revenant.” He shrugged in helpless frustration and combed his fingers through his shaggy golden hair. “Pray God Luc Brienne has not harmed Rani.”
“Luc Brienne!” Rigo interrupted, his eyes meeting Aaron's.
“You say this corsair from Marseilles is named Brienne?” Aaron asked Benjamin. “Perhaps we may have an idea of where he puts in his pirate ship.”
“Navidad,” Rigo supplied.
“This Brienne—he is the one who laid the ambush for you at the cove, is he not?” Magdalena's face was ashen. “What is happening, Aaron? Do our troubles at the hato relate to someone in France?”
“It would appear so,” Aaron replied thoughtfully. “Also, there seems to be a link between the attempts on Rigo's life and the briga
nds—it stretches all the way across the Atlantic.”
“It will take several days for Bartolome to learn anything from Elzoro's plantation,” Rigo said impatiently.
“You all speak in riddles while Rani is in the clutches of a pirate! I have not an hour to waste, much less days!”
Both men and Magdalena turned at Benjamin's outburst, but it was his mother who spoke. “You care a great deal for this Gypsy girl, do you not, Benjamin?”
“I told you, she saved my life. I owe her much.” Benjamin was saved from further explanations by a loud scratching noise at the patio entrance to the library.
Aaron saw the gleaming wolf's eyes and reached for his sword, but Rigo stilled his hand, then turned to Benjamin and said with a smile, “Twould seem your friend did not obey your command.”
“He obeys no better than does his mistress,” Benjamin replied sourly, walking over to the door. “Do not be frightened of Vero, Mama. He is Rani's pet and my boon companion crossing the ocean. Twould seem in her absence he has adopted me as his owner.” He admitted the wolf to the room where it immediately sat, cocking its head inquisitively and inspecting Aaron and Magdalena. “You said you believe Brienne will put in at Navidad?”
“Most probably, but let us plan before we rush off to the cove. Elzoro is involved as well.” Now Aaron began to pace.
“Elzoro, the planter who lives to the south of us? But why? How—”
“Elzoro is not what he seems to be,” Rigo replied. “Think on it. Does not the name translate easily from Spanish to French? A man named Reynard offered the corsairs under Brienne a reward to kill me at Navidad.”
Benjamin's eyes narrowed. “Twould seem you have made enemies aplenty, Rigo, both in the Old World and the New. I care naught about Elzoro or Reynard, or whatever be his name—only Rani. I am for Navidad to find Le Revanant. I only pray they have not harmed her.”
“Do not act the fool, Benjamin.” Rigo's voice was cold and precise now. “Tis a trap baited with this woman. Brienne and Elzoro will use you to get to me and kill both you and your Gypsy wench in the bargain. They want me, so I will go. I would know the reason for their determination to see me dead.”
“And I would see neither of you dead,” Aaron said with grim finality, stepping between his two bristling sons. “We will send Tainos to the cove to spy out Brienne's ship. If he has brought the girl, he will not harm her but send to us for her ransom. Knowing the connection between him and Elzoro gives us an advantage we must not throw away by crashing through the jungle into a trap.”
“Your father is right.” Magdalena placed a hand on each brother's arm. “We can best save Rani by learning what their scheme is first.”
“If only Bartolome could learn something and that right quickly,” Rigo said. “But he has told Elzoro he will visit his plantation only after he has seen to the spiritual needs of the Tainos. It will take several days.”
“Perhaps not,” Aaron replied enigmatically.
* * * *
Miriam lay little Diego in his cradle and softly kissed his forehead. Having been fed and freshly swaddled, he was already drifting off to sleep. “So tiny, so perfect,” she whispered, then arose and laced up the loose tunic she wore at night to more easily accommodate feeding her infant. “Watch over him well, Tanei,” she said to the young Taino maid. “When he awakens, summon me.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She felt like a craven coward for not returning to the ball after Benjamin's arrival. Her feet dragged as she slowly walked from the small nursery to the adjoining bedroom. Rigo had not slept in their big bed since Diego's birth. Tonight she had hoped the long absence would come to an end. “Why, Benjamin, why did you have to return this night of all nights?”
Yet what mattered it? Even if Benjamin had arrived a week later or a year later, would not Rigo's reaction and her own have been the same? She had waited for several hours, until all their guests had retired and the celebration was over, praying that Rigo would come to her, at least to speak of what had brought Benjamin back to Española. The brothers had been closeted with Aaron and Magdalena for the better part of an hour. Was she not entitled to an explanation? Yet Rigo did not come to their room, nor had he paid his accustomed visit to his son before the babe drifted off to sleep.
“I must bury my pride and seek him out.” With trembling hands she took a cloak and wrapped it over her sheer tunic. There was no time to worry over finery. She had dressed splendidly for him earlier and it had meant naught. All the household was asleep, the long corridors silent. She slipped downstairs, then out onto the porch that surrounded the big stone house. Rigo had taken to sleeping in a small room near the cook's quarters, most easily and surreptitiously reached by this outdoor route.
The night air was heavy with the fragrance of frangi-pani blossoms. In the distance nocturnal birds called out from the jungle. Intent on being silent, she rounded the corner of the porch and collided with a solid wall of flesh—the bare, hairy chest of Benjamin Torres. She gasped in surprise.
He reached out and grasped her by the shoulders to steady her. “Miriam, what are you doing out at this hour?”
“I might ask the same of you.” She inspected him, barefoot and clad only in a pair of hose.
The wolf padded silently up to stand beside them. Benjamin knelt and patted Vero, indicating that she take a seat on the low stone bench directly across from him. “I could not sleep. Tis the warm sweetness of the island nights, I suppose. Until I returned, I did not know how much I missed it. And I have been sorely distraught about Rani.”
“Rani?”
He smiled at her for the first time. This was the old Benjamin she had known and loved so well in Europe. Then a haunting sadness filled his eyes. “Rani Janos. A Gypsy girl I met in Italy. She was abducted from Marseilles by a dangerous corsair and brought to Espanola.”
“And you have crossed the ocean-sea in search of this girl?”
“If only I am not too late—if she has been harmed, I will never forgive myself.” He stood up and began to pace as the tale of his relationship with Rani unfolded. When he had finished, he turned to her and smiled that beautiful smile again, wistful and boyish. “This reminds me of how it used to be between us. You were right, you know. I have finally come to realize it. We suit far better as brother and sister than as lovers.”
“You are in love with your Gypsy and now you understand,” Miriam said gently, rising to stand next to him.
“Yes, I suppose I do love her, yet tis not that simple—she is a thief, a wild creature, totally unfit for polite society.”
Miriam smiled sadly. “Many said worse of Rigo when first you brought him to Uncle Isaac's house. And he was a thief, Benjamin. He stole my heart. If you love Rani and she you, do not throw it away for propriety. Love is too precious to waste.”
He studied her grave, lovely face. “Yes, tis true. This is Española and I am free of the constraints of Europe. Perhaps there is a life for Rani and me. If only she is alive and I can rescue her from Brienne.” He paused and then said awkwardly, “I did not mean to be abrupt with you and Rigo when first I saw you. Twas but hurt pride speaking.”
“What we did in Marseilles was cruel and selfish, Benjamin. That cannot be excused.” She lowered her head as tears filled her eyes. “Rigo has never forgiven himself or me for what happened.”
Benjamin took her chin in his hand and raised it. “He has an even greater share of foolish Spanish pride than do I. I give you back your own advice, Miriam. Love is too precious to waste. Go to him and break down the barriers. You have a son to think of now. And I have Rani. In some fashion we will pass through this tangled web. Only keep heart.”
“Thank you, Benjamin. For everything,” she said simply, raising her hands to cup his face and press a kiss on his cheek.
Rigo stood in the shadows behind the passion flower vines, watching the tender scene from the opposite end of the porch. He could not hear their words, but when Miriam reached out and kissed Benjamin, ra
ge boiled up inside him, then subsided, replaced by a bottomless abyss of such pain that he felt it would swallow him. He prayed for oblivion as he turned and walked silently from the house. He would ride to Guacanagari's village now instead of waiting for morning.
* * * *
By mid-morning most of the guests who lived any distance and had stayed the night were preparing to depart for home. Esteban Elzoro strolled toward the corrals with Rosario Vasques, another planter from the south of the Vega. They had taken their leave of Aaron and Magdalena, although the hated half-caste was nowhere in sight. Feeling as he did about Rigo Torres, Elzoro was well pleased to forego the amenity of a farewell.
“What the devil are those savages doing here?” Vasques nodded in the direction of an entourage of Tainos, decked out in full ceremonial regalia, covered with brilliant parrot feathers, intricately worked cotton girdles and elaborate gold and copper jewelry. Four big warriors bore a litter that they reverently set on the ground in the center of the yard before the Torres mansion.
Guacanagari climbed regally from it and said in clear Castilian for all the crowd around the house to hear, “I would speak with the holy man Aaron Torres sends to my people.”
Bartolome de Las Casas walked across the yard to face the Indians, bowing politely to the cacique. “Good day, Guacanagari. I was coming to your village this very day. You honor me by your presence here. How may I serve you?”
“You may serve me by not dishonoring the zemis of my ancestors. They have made their great displeasure known to me and I warn you not to bring your Christian God among the Taino here.”
“But Great Chief, always in the past when a man of God visited the Vega, he was welcomed by the Taino.”
“No more.” Guacanagari's face was implacable as his keen obsidian eyes swept the gathering crowd for full effect. “Your Cristo and his Bird Spirit have displeased the zemis. I have read the signs and I will not permit you to enter our compound. Do not disobey me in this.”