The Miracle at St. Bruno's

by Philippa Carr

  As usual I scanned the horizon for the sight of a sail, but there was nothing but an expanse of blue ocean.

  The sun was warm, though it was only February. I looked at the others; Honey was within two months of her confinement; she had, in spite of everything, retained a certain serenity. Jennet had that bewildered look on her face; I supposed she was wondering whether her sailor would come ashore. He was not with the party but had remained on board ship. It was no doubt due to this that she felt this anxiety.

  The Captain asked us to mount the mules. “We have some short distance to go,” he said.

  We obeyed and we set out from the shore.

  The animal’s progress was slow and it took us some two hours to cover what could not have been more than six or seven miles. The Captain called a halt at the top of an incline and from there we were able to look down on the town. On the edge of this he pointed out a large white building which appeared to be surrounded by parkland.

  He said: “This is the residence of the Governor of this island, Don Felipe Gonzáles. The house is known as the Hacienda and it is there we are going.”

  “For what purpose?” I asked.

  “You will discover,” he answered.

  Our mules carried on down the slope toward the town and the white house and at length we came to iron gates. These were opened by a man who bowed to us and we went through them into a drive on either side of which grew tall flowering shrubs, pink, white and red. Their heavy perfume hung in the air.

  We came at length to the portico; three white steps led to a door, which was opened by a servant in yellow and black livery. We went into a hall which was dark after the brilliance of the sun outside.

  We were taken to a small room and there we were left—the three of us—almost in the dark, for the tinted windows and heavy drapes shut out the sun.

  We did not speak; our tension was too great. I had gathered this much: that I had been the object of the abducting. Jennet had become the mistress of one of the sailors and because he was a strong man and carried a knife she had had but one master; Honey would have been ravished but for the Agnus Dei at her neck and perhaps that aura of divinity or maybe her own witchcraft; but I had been guarded; the man who had dared touch me had suffered violent lashing because of it. So it was clear that the purpose of this mission concerned me.

  The Captain returned. He spoke to Honey: “Have no fear. You will be looked after until such time as the child is born.” His voice was tender; there was a sadness about him. They smiled at each other. I knew there was a bond of love between them, a love that would never be fulfilled but which had touched their lives briefly and had meant something to them.

  “Jennet shall be your maid while you need her,” he said. “Remain here.” Then to me: “Come.”

  I followed him up a staircase. There was a strange brooding silence about this house. It was dark everywhere; it was full of shadows. I knew that something strange and dramatic was about to happen to me.

  I followed the Captain along a corridor. The tinted windows threw a faint yellowish color into the gloom and I had the impression that the owner of this house wanted to shut out the light because he could not bear it to show what went on within these walls.

  I had a desire then to turn and run. Where could I run to? How could I leave Honey and Jennet behind? But it was because of me that we had been brought here.

  The Captain had paused before a door. He rapped lightly on it, someone spoke from within and we entered.

  At first I could see little in that darkened room and then I was aware of the man. This was my first glimpse of Don Felipe Gonzáles. I felt the cold shiver run through my body. Perhaps it was a premonition, perhaps it was that there was something so forbidding, almost awe-inspiring about the man. He was not tall, compared with Jake Pennlyon, for instance, nor was he small for a Spaniard. He was dressed in a black doublet which was trimmed with fine white lace, his breeches were of padded satin, at his side was a short sword in a velvet scabbard, and never had I been aware of dignity such as he possessed, never had I seen eyes so cold. He would terrify by a look, this Don Felipe Gonzáles. His skin was of olive color; his nose large aquiline, lips thin, a straight line, cruel, ruthless lips.

  He said: “So this is the woman, Captain.”

  I knew enough Spanish to understand that.

  The Captain answered in the affirmative.

  He came forward and bowed to me, coldly, yet politely. I acknowledged his greeting.

  “Welcome to Tenerife,” he said in English.

  Because I was afraid I must answer boldly. “Not well come,” I said, “since I am brought here against my will.”

  “I rejoice in your safe arrival,” he replied.

  He clapped his hands and a woman came in. She was young—about my own age—considerably smaller, with dark skin and big dark eyes.

  He nodded to her and she came toward me.

  “Maria will attend you,” he said. “Go with her. We shall meet later.”

  It was bewildering. The girl took me along the silent corridor. We came to a big room, dark as the others in spite of the big window. The heavy embroidered hangings shut out the light although they were not fully drawn. In the room was a large four-poster bed, about which hung embroidered curtains; the posts and canopy were finely carved; the coverlet of silk. The chairs were finely carved too, and there was a massive oak chest on one side of the room. On the wooden floor were two large mats of unusual designs. I had never seen such beautiful rugs.

  I quickly discovered that Maria knew no English and that I could learn little from her. She drew me through a door which led from the bedroom and there was a toilet room such as I had never seen before. A sunken bath was in the floor and there were Venetian mirrors on the wall.

  Maria pointed to the bath and to me; she pulled at my clothes and I could see that she was suggesting I should take a bath.

  I was nothing loath. I felt I needed it; and I had a great desire to be cleansed of the all-pervading odors of the ship.

  She disappeared and I unbound my hair and let it fall about me. She came back shortly with cans of water, with which she filled the bath. She pointed to me and I indicated that I wished her to leave me. She did. I locked the door, threw off my clothes and got into the sunken bath. It was a delicious sensation. I lay full length and let my hair fall into the water. Then I washed it and my body too and as I stepped up onto the tiled floor Maria was there holding out towels for me. I could not understand how she had come in, for I had locked the door; she saw my surprise and pointed to the curtains behind her. I realized there was another door behind them which led into the toilet room.

  I dried my body and she brought scented oils, with which she massaged me. The scent was pungent, overpoweringly sweet like the flowers I had noticed in the drive.

  She wrapped a toweled robe about me and spread my hair around me. She giggled and drew back and, throwing back the curtains, opened the door through which she had come.

  The bedroom window opened onto a balcony and she beckoned me. I went out; it was small and there was just room for two or three people. I looked over the wrought-iron balustrade onto a patio in which grew highly colored flowers. There was a seat on the balcony. Maria turned it so that my back was to the sun; I could see the purpose was to dry my hair.

  She hunched her shoulders as though amused and disappeared. I sat still shaking out my damp hair, in spite of everything enjoying the luxury of being clean again. It gave me courage. I had ceased to speculate as to my fate, for I was aware that I would know very soon why I had been brought here. I wondered what was happening to Honey and Jennet and whether the Captain had returned to his ship.

  The warm sun was pleasant; I felt my spirits rising a little because I could not associate violence with the dignified man whom I had seen so briefly and who I knew was the master of everything here.

  Maria came out; she felt my hair; she brought a comb and combed it, holding the strands of hair up to the sun
’s warmth. I tried to ask what she knew, but it was impossible.

  I was on the balcony for what must have been more than an hour. The sun was lower in the sky. It would be almost sunset. I calculated that it would be about six of the clock.

  Maria beckoned me into the bedroom. There was a polished metal mirror and a chair before it. I sat down and she dressed my hair. She piled it high on my head and placed in it a comb very similar to the one I had bought from the peddler; and I felt it was symbolic in a way. That had been at the very beginning. Now we were at the climax.

  She took a velvet robe from a cupboard. It was a deep mulberry shade and edged with miniver. There was something regal about it. She put it about me.

  I said, “Whose is this, Maria?”

  She giggled. She pointed to me.

  “But whose before?” I asked. There was a faint perfume about it. The same as that of the oil with which I had been anointed.

  She kept on pointing to me and I gave up the interrogation as hopeless.

  There was a knock on the door. Maria scuttled to it; there was a hurried exchange of words. Then she came back and beckoned to me.

  I followed her out of the bedroom along the dim corridor into a room. It was dark now; the sun had disappeared below the horizon and there was not the twilight we had at home.

  Maria pushed me into the room and shut the door. I saw the table laid for a meal. There were flowers on it. Candles flickered in their sconces on the walls.

  I advanced and I knew as I did so that I was being watched.

  Don Felipe Gonzáles rose from a chair in the shadows and bowed to me.

  I said: “Where is my sister?”

  He replied: “We dine alone.” He took my hand and with a graceful gesture led me to the table.

  I sat in the chair at one end of the table; he took one at the other end.

  “We shall converse in your barbaric tongue,” he said, “for I am acquainted with it.”

  “That will be an advantage,” I replied, “for I know only a few words of your savage one.”

  “You will not indulge in useless vituperation. It will serve you ill.”

  “I am a prisoner here. I know that. You can hold me here I have no doubt, but you cannot force me to silence or to speech.”

  “You will learn grace and courtliness here. You will learn that pointless badinage will help you not at all.”

  I was irritated by his habit of saying, “You will do this and that.” He made it sound like a command. I had the impression that he was stressing the fact that I was in his power and would be forced to obey him. It frightened me. There was something cold and implacable about him.

  “We will eat now, and afterward we will talk. I will then explain what is expected of you.”

  He clapped his hands and servants appeared.

  They carried hot dishes, which they placed on the table. We were served with some sort of fish.

  It smelled good after salt meat and beans and biscuits in which there were very often weevils.

  “We call this calamares en su tinta,” he told me. “You will enjoy it.”

  I did, marveling that I could eat with such enjoyment in such a situation and strange company.

  He talked of the food of the countryside. “You will enjoy it when you have grown accustomed to it. Taste is a matter of cultivation. Custom plays a large part in what we enjoy.”

  A kind of pork followed, served with tiny green vegetables which I had not seen before. “Garbanzos con patas de cerdo,” he told me. “You will repeat it.”

  I obeyed.

  “Your accent shocks me,” he said. “It is unharmonious.”

  “You could not expect one of my barbaric tongue to speak yours well,” I retorted.

  “You speak with wisdom,” he said.

  “Then I have at last won your approval.”

  “You will learn that words can be wasteful. You will eat and after that we will talk and you will learn the reason for your coming.”

  I said nothing and ate the food. There were fruits afterward—dates and little yellow fruit which I learned were called bananas. They were delicious.

  “You will want to know where you are. There is no reason why you should not. You are on one of the chief of a group of islands once known as the Fortunate Isles.”

  “And were they?” I asked.

  “You will not speak unless asked to do so,” he said. “These islands were in the far-off days called Canaria because when the Romans came here there were many dogs. They called them the Islands of Dogs. Now you will hear them spoken of as the Canaries and you will understand why. The dogs have disappeared. The islands were inhabited by a race known as the Guanches—a warlike people. There are some left. They are savages and stain their bodies with the dark red resin of the dragon trees. We have subdued them. The flag of Spain now flies over these islands. The French settled here first, but they were unable to keep order. We understood how important they were to our navigation. We did not fight for them; we bought them from the French and since then we have settled here and are subduing the Guanches.”

  “At least I know where I am.”

  “We are on the outskirts of the town of La Laguna, which we built when we settled here. You may be allowed to go into the town. It will depend on your behavior.”

  While he had been talking the food had been cleared away; but the silver jug containing a kind of mead which we had been drinking was left on the table.

  The door shut; we were alone.

  “You will hear now why you are here and why your path has crossed mine. You are necessary to a plan.”

  “How could that be?”

  “You will not be impetuous. You must be silent. You would not wish to play your part without knowing why. Nor would I wish you to. I would not have you think that I resemble the barbarians of your island home. You will be quiet therefore and learn the reason for your abduction. You will be reasonable, pliable, do what is expected of you and therefore save yourself much trouble and degradation. I am no rough pirate. I am a man of breeding. I come from a noble family; I am distantly connected with the royal house of Spain. I am a man of taste and sensibility. What I must do is distasteful to me. I trust you will make it as tolerable as possible. I will continue.”

  I bowed my head submissively.

  “I am the Governor of these islands, which I hold in the name of Spain. I have told you how they came into our possession. They belong to Spain, as the whole world should and shall one day. But there are marauding pirates on the seas; and there is one nation which is particularly offensive to us. They have bold seamen, adventurers without grace, crude men who raid and pillage our coastal towns and ravish our women.”

  “It is not only one nation who is guilty of these practices,” I said. “I speak from personal experience.”

  “You will learn to curb your tongue while you are here. It is not seemly for women to use that organ so constantly. They should be gentle and gracious in the presence of their masters.”

  “I have yet to learn that you are my master.”

  “You have yet much to learn and the first lesson will be just that. You are here to obey me and that you will do. But silence, or you will rob me of my patience and you shall not know why but only that you must do as bidden.”

  That did silence me.

  “Let us to the point,” he said. “Five years ago I came here. I was betrothed to a lady of a noble family. Isabella was carefully nurtured and when I left Madrid she was a child of thirteen, too young for marriage, but we were betrothed. She would come out to me when she was fifteen. There were therefore two years to wait. Those two years passed and she was fifteen. She and I were married in Madrid by proxy. The King himself attended the ceremony. Then she set out on the journey from Spain. We prepared to receive her. Our true wedding would take place in the Cathedral of La Laguna within two days of her arrival. We were ready to receive her. The journey was long, for the ship had been becalmed for a week. You will know what
that can mean. I waited eagerly and while I was waiting a message was brought to me that the Guanches were rising in another of our islands. It was imperative for me to leave La Laguna to sail across to the troubled island. I was there for three weeks; and in the meantime Isabella arrived. I was not there to greet her, but my household was in readiness. My young bride was received with honors; she was a bewildered child of fifteen, delicately nurtured, ignorant of life. I knew that it would be my task to teach her gradually and with care. But that did not happen. It was two nights after Isabella and her duenna arrived with their retinue that the pirates came. I was not there to defend her—my poor ravished Isabella—humiliated, degraded, terrified.”

  I shivered. “Poor child,” I murmured.

  “Poor child indeed, and you have not realized all. The effect on her has been terrible.”

  There was silence—a great moth fluttered up suddenly from the curtains and flew to the candlelight; it flew madly around, singeing its wings until it fell. We both watched it.

  “She had to be nursed back to health,” he said. “But that was something beyond our powers.”

  “She died?” I asked.

  He looked beyond me. “Perhaps it would have been better so.”

  We were silent for a second or so. I was thinking of the leering faces of men during the calm; and I saw the poor little girl of fifteen in their power.

  “I am not a man to accept insult and injury,” he said. “I seek revenge … nothing will satisfy me but revenge. I want an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. No more. But that I want and that I will have. Tell me that you understand.”

  “I do.”

  “You would feel as I if so wronged?”

  “I believe I should.”

  “There is anger in you. I sense that. It is good. It will make you pliant.”

  “Explain to me more.”

  “It is simple. I know the name of the ship which raided our coast on that night. I know the name of Isabella’s ravisher. The ship was the Rampant Lion. The man who ruined her life Captain Jake Pennlyon.”

  I had caught my breath; I felt the color rushing into my face. I stared at him. I know my lips formed the name Jake Pennlyon although I did not speak.