A Murder Most Literate

by Jefferson Bonar

  “It must have been hard to accept Gregorio taking such advantage of your boy, your angel, the one you sacrificed everything for. He had turned your precious Juan into a common street thief. But I’m curious—what was the final insult for you? What was it that pushed you over the edge and motivated you to murder him?”

  “Murder him…?” Pepe muttered. Was it possible he was that ignorant of what was happening in his own household?

  “I’m guessing it was when Gregorio began pushing your son to transport the gunpowder for him as well. Gregorio found out his old driver Teodoro was skimming the powder he was transporting for him and wanted Juan to replace him.”

  Armada walked into the room. He stopped to stand by Juan’s chair and put a hand on Juan’s shoulder.

  “But Juan was afraid of the dark. So, your son told Gregorio no. And that was when Gregorio really began to threaten you. Was that it? Was that the point when you had no other choice but to kill again?”

  Angeles had given up her denials and pleas for him to leave. Armada could see it in her eyes. She had nowhere else left to hide. She sat rock still, listening, probably desperately looking for a way out of the situation. But he wouldn’t give her one.

  “So, you killed Gregorio Cordoba. But you didn’t just kill him, you let your rage out, the caged beast that had always lived within your heart. Tell me, did you always know it was there? Or did your brutality surprise even you? I saw Gregorio’s office after you’d finished with him. It was hard to believe a human being could have done that.”

  Armada walked over to Lucas and took the irons the boy had been carrying for him. He held them in front of him, letting them jangle a bit to let everyone know what Armada intended to do.

  “How long was it before you realised someone else knew where you’d hidden Aurelio Martinez’s body? When was it that you learned about Julian de Benaudalla, and how he’d been there with Gregorio the night they’d stumbled upon it? I’m guessing you had no idea until my page and I arrived and began piecing it all together. It was me that put you on to Julian, wasn’t it? It was my inquiries. And if I had been a bit faster putting this case together, perhaps he would still be alive. But that is my burden to carry.”

  Armada moved toward Angeles and placed the irons down on the table, making sure they made a loud clanking noise as he did so.

  “What I will also carry is the anger I have for you nearly killing my page that night as well, in the Duke of Frade’s villa. Which is why I have to admit I will quite enjoy arresting you.”

  “What about my boy?” Angeles suddenly asked. “What happens to him? That’s what this has all been for.”

  “Mother?” Juan asked, as if suddenly realising who his mother was for the first time. “Are you saying…?”

  “What about Juan?” Angeles asked more forcefully, showing a shade of the wild beast Armada knew was there. “You can’t take away his place at school. He’s worked so hard! It isn’t fair to him!”

  “It’s not up to me, it’s up to the corregidor. Although I can’t say he’s going to be pleased about Juan’s deception.”

  “It’s not his fault! It’s not fair!” Angeles screamed. She stood up, knocking the table aside, and threw a cutting board at Armada. He blocked it with his arm and didn’t see Angeles pick up the knife from the counter and come at him with it.

  “You’ve ruined everything!” she screamed, and she attacked Armada with the knife. Armada was surprised at her strength in the grips of such mania and found it hard to fend off her attempts to stab him in the neck. He realised Gregorio must have been equally as surprised.

  Another arm suddenly appeared, reaching across the front of her neck, while another one grabbed the knife, pulling her off of Armada.

  Armada looked up to find it was Pepe, who held her with all his strength.

  “Stop it! Stop it, Angeles! Enough! It’s over!”

  Angeles screamed and tried to wrestle free from his grasp, but Pepe was not about to let go. Angeles finally relaxed, dropping the knife so it clanged against the tiled floor.

  Angeles now just glared at him with murder in her eyes as her breathing slowly returned to normal. Behind her, Pepe looked at her as if for the first time, horrified at what he saw.

  “There it is. The wild beast once again,” Armada said, getting up from the floor. “It’s always there, isn’t it? Just below the surface, always waiting to be set free, as it was with Gregorio. And you think loyalty to your son excuses the horrors of what it’s done.”

  Armada threw the iron chains at Angeles’s feet.

  “It doesn’t.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Teo woke to the sound of the squeaking cell door being opened.

  Footsteps. The heavy clomping of the guard that he’d gotten to know so well. Rodriguez walked like a drunk horse, stumbling about in boots that were too large for him, a gift from a soldier they had executed last year.

  Teo was amazed at how adept his hearing had gotten in the weeks since they’d dumped him in this cell and forgotten about him. It was getting to where he could make out the conversations that were being had in the square below his window all day long. He liked to sit by the window, listening closely, pretending he was one of those normal people outside, milling about on a warm afternoon, not a care in the world. Nothing to do but hang about in cafés and gossip about the Royal Court.

  Teo had long since exhausted himself with being frightened of being hung. At this point, he just wanted it over. Life had just gotten too hard. There was no point in going on. It was obvious God wanted him dead. To keep fighting was just delaying the inevitable. He was tired of being hungry, of being frightened, of having everything he loved taken away. He yearned for the days in the army, the last time he’d been happy. But that’s all they were now, just memories, something to quiet his mind as he drifted off to sleep, which was all there was to do here. He preferred sleep. At least there he’d found a way to be happy.

  The footsteps stopped outside his cell. Had they finally come to hang him? It would have been strange, as he’d heard no preparations happening outside in the square. No platform being built, no murmur of a crowd waiting for blood, no excitement in the air. It sounded like a normal day out there.

  Rodriguez unlocked the door and swung it open.

  “Teo, get out.”

  “Why?” Teo asked without getting up. He was lying flat on his back on the stone wall underneath the window. He’d learned it was the best spot in the cell to hear what was going on outside the window. The noise bounced off the ceiling, amplifying it just a bit, making it sound closer. He liked that.

  “Because you’re released.”

  Teo couldn’t quite believe it. He yanked his head up, then sat up, ignoring the pains in his back as he did so. He turned around, wondering if he’d managed to fall asleep and this was all a dream.

  “Released?”

  “You heard me. Out. We need this cell.”

  Teo was not about to argue. He scrambled to his feet and walked out of the cell, waiting to see what Rodriguez’s trick would be.

  Rodriguez had an unusually dour mood about him this morning and escorted Teo down the long corridor to the iron-barred door that led to the ayuntamiento upstairs. As he passed Rodriguez’s desk, he saw it—a release order, signed by a magistrate named Torrejón.

  It had to be a trick. There was no other explanation. He’d been caught red-handed with illegal contraband. He had no money to pay lawyers or have anyone speak on his behalf. Nothing he ever said was believed. He was a crook, according to everyone he’d encountered since his arrest.

  Rodriguez escorted him all the way through the ayuntamiento building to the front door, where a host of important-looking administrative officials were milling about, occasionally glancing over their shoulders at him and scrunching their noses at the smell.

  “What’s happened? Why am I being released?”

  “You have a friend out there. Paid your bail and all your fees. Convinced the
magistrate you weren’t worth it. Don’t know how you managed it. Never thought you would have a friend beyond that mangy mule of yours.”

  Thoughts of the constable from the Brotherhood floated through Teo’s mind. Perhaps he’d judged the man too harshly at first. He owed him a drink, at least. No constable he’d ever met would have gone through the trouble for him.

  Rodriguez left him standing at the front door at the top of the steps that led down to the northern edge of the plaza.

  Teo made his way down the steps to find someone standing at the bottom staring up at him.

  “You?” Teo said, amazed. “You did this?”

  “Yes,” Elvira said back. She was still dressed in her modest black mourning dress, but she had added touches of white to lighten the austere mood it evoked. A white coif, gloves dyed blue with white embroidery, and a red velvet coat that looked brand new.

  Teo stopped halfway down the steps, waiting to see what she wanted before getting any closer.

  “Why?”

  Elvira took her time to speak, letting her gaze drift off toward where a handful of couples were enjoying a drink at a café nearby, while others kept a close eye on children that raced about the tables with wild abandon, annoying the waiters.

  “Gregorio and I were married for fifteen years,” Elvira said, watching the children with a slight smile. “I was so focused on what our lives were going to be, on who he could have been. What I didn’t do in all those years was learn who he actually was. I guess that is why it was so easy for him to hide his secrets from me.”

  Elvira turned her gaze back to Teo.

  “I’ve realised since Gregorio died that you know more about my husband than I ever did.”

  For some reason, Teo felt comfortable enough to come the rest of the way down the steps. It seemed rude to make Elvira speak up in such a public place. As he moved toward her, she turned and began to stroll toward the market. Teo decided to follow, finding it awkward to not feel threatened by her, or by anyone. No one was chasing him. No one was trying to kill him. She just wanted to talk to him. That was all. And it felt odd. Odd, but nice.

  “I found the money my husband owed to you. It was in his workshop. My maid, bless her soul, showed it to me,” Elvira said. “I couldn’t think of a better use for the money but to get you released. I must admit, much of it was spent on the lawyer, but he managed to do what he promised. Here….”

  Elvira held out her hand. Teo held out his, and she dropped a handful of ducats into it.

  “That is what is left. Hopefully enough to start over.”

  Teo looked at the money. Five ducats. With his experience, he could make it last a few weeks, as long as he stayed out of the gambling dens. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He supposed he didn’t deserve much more than that.

  “Thank you,” Teo said.

  “I only ask one thing in return,” Elvira said, stopping. “I want you to tell me everything I don’t know about my husband. Everything I should have learned while he was alive. Everything my children deserve to know when they get older and start asking me questions.”

  Teo looked into Elvira’s eyes. The request was genuine. There was no trickery here. And Teo wasn’t sure what to say. Gregorio Cordoba had not been a pleasant person. In fact, he’d been a real bastardo at times. Teo wasn’t sure how much of that he should really tell her. It was true that her children should know. What if one of them had his nature? It was always best to have some warning.

  Teo didn’t answer. He just nodded, agreeing to the request. Elvira smiled at him, led him to a café nearby, and ordered drinks for both of them. And over the next two hours, Teo had one of the first real conversations he’d had in years.

  The funeral had been a sombre affair, with little of the usual loud sobbing that usually rang in the rafters of the small cathedrals like this one in Santiago.

  Armada knew why. The Martinez family had already shed their tears. In a way, they had already said goodbye. For some time, they had known in their hearts their son Aurelio was gone. How many long nights had his parents spent sobbing into each other’s chests, wondering how they would ever get on without him? How often had they tearfully reminisced about his short life and the joy he had brought them? For many parents, it was the not knowing what happened that probably hurt the most.

  Now, the entire pueblo could bury him and mourn him properly. Armada and Lucas sat in the back and respectfully said little during the long ceremony. Near the end, many of the residents who knew the boy were allowed to get up and address the congregation, and for the first time, Armada got a sense of what the real Aurelio Martinez had been like in life. Hearing such personal details about a victim wasn’t something he got to hear very often, and he delighted in hearing how Aurelio had been very bright and hardworking, but also social. Everyone in town had a story where he’d helped them out with one project or repair or another. He’d always been happy to spend an afternoon repairing a fence or helping an elderly resident to the shops. It was easy to see why he’d caught the attention of Lady Florentia for her sponsorship. It saddened him to think of what Aurelio Martinez could have accomplished if he had lived. He was the kind of man Spain needed more of.

  It was what Lady Florentia had thought too, and she’d told him so after he’d returned to spend another afternoon with her. This time, without the dark cloud of murder hanging over the conversation. This time, he’d been able to talk to her the way he’d wanted, and it had been a magical afternoon that had fed his soul. Their time had been short, and he promised to return in the autumn to visit again. Both he and the Lady knew this promise would not be kept, but it was the spirit of it that was important.

  The funeral was the one last piece of business before he and Lucas would set off on the long journey back to Granada. It would take them several days of hard travelling to get there. But it wasn’t the travel that Armada dreaded, it was all the long hours of silence that would give each of them time to contemplate all that had happened since they’d arrived. For it would have implications well beyond just this case.

  The priest gave his final quotes from the Bible, and the funeral was over. The mood was quiet and hushed as everyone slowly made their way out of the cathedral. Most hung about to say a few words of solace to the Martinez family before leaving, but Armada felt it wasn’t his place to join them. This was not his pueblo. In fact, being here felt intrusive somehow. He was just a reminder of the horrific nature of Aurelio’s death, which is not what everyone wanted to remember.

  So, Armada and Lucas slipped away discreetly and headed back to their cart, which Lucas had loaded up the previous night so they could leave just after the funeral.

  They had been here too long already. They should have left after Armada and Lucas had been released from custody, as their lives would soon be in danger. And just leaving the city may not be enough.

  He hadn’t mentioned to Lucas how he’d done it. The boy had enough to worry about. No, Armada would take on the burden of watching over their shoulders for years to come, keeping a keen eye out for any Portuguese assassins who may be looking to settle a score. Giving up the location of their outpost at Cabeza de Diego Gomez was the only way to overshadow the glory that came from hanging Lucas and imprisoning Armada. It was well worth it for a magistrate lusting for glory to trade their freedom for the chance to catch a garrison of Portuguese independence fighters stockpiling munitions barely a league from their city. There would be awards, honours, titles. Perhaps the King himself would commend his patriotism in the war against the Portuguese.

  But it also meant vengeance would be sought for such a betrayal. Armada had little doubt there were those in Carasco’s company who would not rest until Armada’s head was on a pike.

  They said little as they left the church and crossed the Roman Bridge to re-enter the city for the last time. Armada pondered how many people in Santiago had lived their entire lives in this pueblo without ever once having stepped foot on this bridge, or in Salamanca, despite
living their lives in its shadow. Angeles Mendoza knew that. It was why she knew she’d be able to get away with her deception.

  Their cart and mule were parked in the university stables, next to the Patio de Escuelas Menores. Lucas wandered far ahead of Armada as they followed the Rúa de San Martín, and for a moment Armada lost sight of him.

  But he didn’t worry. Something in him told him where Lucas had gone. Armada crossed the plaza on the other side of the road from the university building and entered the small alleyway with the two arches that opened up into the courtyard of the Plaza de Escuelas Menores. It was there he found Lucas, leaning against one of the archways, watching the boys of San Bartolomé on the far side hurling insults at the younger boys and kicking a ball about. Lucas watched them with that same fascination as he did the first time he’d laid eyes on them. The boys had saved themselves by deciding not to set off the bomb, like they’d planned with Julian. In fact, they’d given up the hiding place of the barrel of serpentine as well, which Arturo had accepted as recompense for their plans.

  The election had gone forward, but with everything that had happened, few people on campus had any desire to vote for San Bartolomé, whose reputation would take a few years to recover. Juan Gongora, the candidate from Arzobispo, easily won it, leaving the San Bartolomé boys disappointed but also freed from their obligation to fight until the next election.

  For Lucas, the damage had been done. Arturo had revealed his deception to the boys, and he Lucas was warned not to encounter them again, as his safety could not be guaranteed. It didn’t seem necessary to Armada that Arturo do this, but figured it was Arturo’s way of ushering the both of them out of his university and out of his life.

  Despite everything, there was still longing in Lucas’ eyes.

  Now was the time to tell him.

  “I felt it, too,” Armada said.

  “What, sir?”

  “When it’s gone, you feel as though you’ve lost a limb. I felt it during my voyage home across the Atlantic, knowing I could never return. I questioned my decision to leave my company behind. For weeks, I thought I had made a mistake. What was I going to do without my fellow soldiers, my friends, my brothers, at my side every moment of the day? It felt impossible to go on.”