by Stacy Gregg
“Bee-a-trizz!” Annie shouted. “Run to me!”
Annie had climbed up on the tractor and she was frantically waving at me to follow her.
“No!” I shouted back. “I can do this!”
There were only a few more strands to cut through and my horse would be free.
I tried to hold her head steady and saw away at the rope, but the Duchess was flinging herself around in a frenzy. I tried to hang on to her as the horses scattered all around us, diving both sides of the tractor. They all looked the same – dark bay with black manes and tails, matted and dreadlocked with burrs. The biggest horse ran at the rear of the herd. He must have been the stallion – he was massive compared to the rest. He had splashes of white all over, a broad white blaze down his face and a bold Roman nose. As he came close, he didn’t peel off like the others, he bore down on me and the Duchess, making straight for us.
“Ho! Ho!”
Annie leapt down off the tractor waving her hands at him. The stallion put his ears flat back in fury, and only swerved at the very last minute. Then he pulled up and wheeled round to face us again. He was poised to attack!
“Get those ropes cut, child, and let her go!” Annie shouted.
“I’m trying!” The Duchess had pulled away from me to the end of the lead rope and I couldn’t reach to cut the last strands. She was dragging me forward and I found myself stumbling through the undergrowth as I desperately tried to keep hold.
“Bee-a-trizz!” Annie called out. “Behind you!” I spun round and that was when I saw the stallion bearing down on me. He was running with his neck stretched right out and his lips curled back with teeth bared. I tried to move out of the way, but I had nowhere to go. He rose up on his hind legs and lunged forward but as he struck out, the lead rope behind me went slack. Suddenly the Duchess barrelled past me, knocking me over, and thrust herself between us to fight the stallion.
I fell over backwards, and began to scramble about in the undergrowth, frantically trying to get as far away as I could. I heard a sickening squeal as the Duchess took a blow from the stallion’s hooves, and then the two of them went up on their hind legs, limbs locked in a hideous embrace, necks wound together like snakes.
I felt the grasp of strong arms round me and the next thing I knew Annie had dragged me out of harm’s way and over to the tractor.
“Duchess!” I shouted.
“Leave her be!” Annie said, hanging on to me. “She can handle herself.”
As the stallion dropped back down on all fours, the Duchess seized her chance. She pivoted and aimed a double-barrel kick with both hind legs. She caught the stallion across his shoulders with a powerful blow that knocked him clean over.
The stallion seemed dazed when he got up. He shook out his mane and then trotted off with his head lowered to the edge of the clearing where the rest of the wild herd were standing. They had been watching with ears pricked, waiting for the outcome. The stallion’s message was clear. The Duchess had outmanoeuvred him and he admitted defeat.
My courageous horse stood trembling and snorting, noble in victory. Annie picked up the knife and cut the last remaining strands of the rope halter so that it fell from her proud face.
“De Boss lady be back,” Annie said as she watched the Duchess canter over and take her place once more in the herd. “And don’t nobody be messin’ with her.”
F.M.
20th September, 1493
When I left the court that day I was stunned, but upon reflection my shock turned to anger. Did Tomas de Torquemada really think he could get away with this? My best friend is the daughter of the Queen! Princess Joanna would help me to save Papa.
“Princess Joanna?” I called for her but she was not in her rooms. I found her instead, already dressed without me in her best gown and roaming the gardens of the Alhambra with two of her handmaidens, picking flowers.
“Your Royal Highness,” I curtseyed low. “I have come to ask a great favour. I need you to talk to your mother. Please tell her that my father is a good man; tell her to release him.”
Joanna turned to me, her eyes cold.
“Felipa! I will not confront the Queen. It is treason to defy her will and even if I spoke to her, Tomas de Torquemada is the one who has her ear.”
“Joanna! How can you not even try to save my father? We are sisters, you and I!”
“You are not my sister,” Princess Joanna snapped. “You are my servant – do not forget that.”
She paused and then gestured for the handmaidens to leave us.
“Felipa,” she said icily, “do not ask me to do what I cannot. If you do not bite your tongue then you will be joining your father in the dungeons. Now hurry to my chambers and fetch my cloak. We are due in court.”
It was all I could do to hold my tongue as I sat next to Joanna that afternoon. There were no more smiles or whispers exchanged between us. Even when Admiral Columbus entered the great chamber we did not gossip as we usually did.
Columbus strode up the great hall to stand before the throne. “Your Majesty, I am almost ready to depart the shores of Spain once more. Seventeen ships have been prepared and I have most of my crew and supplies for the voyage.”
“Very good, Admiral,” the Queen said. “And what of the horses? You have the twelve that you require to take with you on the voyage?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Columbus said. “I have handpicked them myself. If it may please you…”
As he said this, the vast wooden doors at the far end of the chamber opened wide. To the fanfare of trumpets, six of Columbus’s men entered, each of them leading a horse by hand.
I think Admiral Columbus delights in making these grand gestures in the hopes of impressing the Queen. The stallions looked magnificent as they made their way down the centre of the hall, their hooves chiming out against the stone cobbles. Three were bays, and another three were coloured with splashes of white. They danced and fretted, arching their necks in front of the delighted courtiers.
The grooms lined the stallions up against the far wall and then the trumpets sounded once more and through the doors came the six chosen mares. My heart stopped beating. At the front of the herd, champing at the bit and tossing her head high, was none other than my very own Cara.
Oh, Cara! I had thought that I had nothing more to be taken from me. Now I realise in my despair that I was wrong. I left the grand court and ran.
22nd September, 1493
As I descended the stairs to the dungeons I could hear the pitiful cries of men wailing or babbling to themselves like madmen. Some of them grabbed at me as I went past, their filthy arms stretching out through the iron bars.
I had promised myself I would be strong, but when I reached my father’s cell and saw him crouched there on the cold, stone floor his wrists and ankles clamped with manacles, I couldn’t help but weep.
“Felipa!” My father was horrified to see me. “My child! You should not be here!”
“Neither should you!” I choked back my tears. “Father, I am going to get you out of here. If Princess Joanna will not help me then I will seek an audience with the Queen to ask for your freedom…”
“No!” My father’s face darkened. “You will not. For even while I am clasped in chains, I am still your father and I forbid it.”
“But Father…”
“Do not argue, Felipa!” he said. “You know that to speak out against Tomas de Torquemada is to give yourself a death sentence.”
“I can’t stand by and let you die!” I sobbed.
“Felipa,” my father sighed. “There is no hope for me. They will torture me until I confess. And then, my dear Felipa, they will come after you…”
“But you said yourself that we are under the protection of the Queen!”
My father laughed bitterly. “And look where it has got me!”
I stretched my arms out to comfort him and as our fingertips touched through the iron bars, I saw the look he gave me. There was such love in his eyes it made
me feel wretched to think that all this time I had not realised how deeply he had always cared for me.
“You are a Converso, and you too have Jewish blood,” my father said. “It is not safe here, Felipa. You must leave the city now.”
I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t speak.
“Raise your head and let me look upon you,” my father said.
I did as he instructed and he smiled.
“My beautiful Felipa. When I close my eyes for the last time, I will picture your face and know that you are safe and I will be happy.”
Then his voice turned gruff.
“Now go! Quickly! To be here in the dungeons is already treason. Tomas de Torquemada will send his men after you.”
“Yes, Papa.” I stood up and made my way towards the stairs. And that was when he said his final words.
“Be careful, Felipa,” he whispered. “If they catch you, they will kill you.”
The doors to my parents’ house had been left wide open since the Inquisition took my father away. I closed it and barred myself inside but even so I scarcely felt safe in my home now. It was late and I managed to heat a humble meal of soup and bread and retired to my room and slept fitfully. I rose again before dawn and entered my parents’ bedroom. My father’s possessions were just as he had left them. I grabbed his travelling bag and threw in his boots and a waistcoat, an old shirt and trousers. Then I went to my bedroom and took my diary, then finally to my sewing basket where I grabbed my best pair of dressmaking shears that were a gift from my mother. I shoved them into the bag and then I left.
Tomas de Torquemada was sure to hear about my visit to the dungeons soon enough. My father’s words rang in my ears as I sprinted across the courtyards of the Alhambra towards the stables.
If they catch you, they will kill you.
I prised open the massive stable doors and hurried down the long, dark corridors. The bag bounced hard against my spine with every stride I took. I had seen guards marching across the pavilion. And I knew that I didn’t have much time.
I ran down the cobbled corridor until I reached the very last stall. I fell upon the door, working the bolt with shaking hands, and then stepping inside.
“Cara!” I hissed her name in the gloom. She was a black silhouette in the shadows, moving towards me. Then the light of the window bathed her face and I saw those blue eyes, as clear as the sky.
“My Cara Blanca!” I threw my arms round her and she nickered and shook her mane joyfully. Then I threw the bag on to the straw of the loose-box floor.
“Cara, they are right behind me. We do not have much time!”
I began to undress, easing myself free of my corset, letting my gown fall to the floor. I dropped to my knees, pulled the tangle of garments out from my bag and began my transformation with the roll of mutton cloth, binding myself flat. Over the mutton cloth I put on my father’s shirt and waistcoat. I pulled on his trousers, cinched them with a belt and tucked them into the riding boots.
The old clothes I shoved into the bag and then I moved over to the window.
“There is nothing here for me now,” I murmured to Cara Blanca. “All I have in the world is you and they will not take you away from me. I will do whatever I must for us to be together. If I cannot change the mind of the Queen then I must change my own fate instead…”
And then I took out the shears…
Footsteps!
This was it. I had to do it now.
Raising the metal blades with my right hand I reached behind my head and grasped my long dark hair, gathering it up tightly and then, in one clean slice, I made the cut. The blade was razor sharp and it did its work masterfully. My waist-length hair had been severed. I now had the blunt bobbed haircut that befitted a young man. In my left hand, I held the shank of my black hair, thick and glossy like a horse’s tail. I shoved it roughly into the bag along with the shears.
I hastily tied the bag shut. I could hear the guards working the bolts to the door. This was the moment of reckoning. The door swung open and I was bathed in blinding overwhelming light.
“You!” the guard said. “You, boy! Are you the groom for this horse?”
I felt my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes, sir,” I said, trying to make my voice sound low and manly. “Yes, I am.”
“Then you will accompany this beast with Admiral Columbus?”
Stay calm, the voice in my head was saying. Speak no more than necessary.
“Yes, I will.” I slung my bag over my shoulder, and placed the halter and lead rope upon Cara.
“Then saddle up and prepare for the ride to Cadiz,” the guard said. “Columbus sets sail upon the morrow on the outgoing tide and your ship to the New World awaits.”
Storm be Comin’
I must have looked like I’d seen a ghost when I walked into Annie’s kitchen. I had Felipa’s diary clutched tight in my hands and I was shaking. I felt like it had suddenly got very cold. What was that phrase Mom used to say? As if someone had walked over your grave. Well that was how I felt, like someone was stomping over it in fact.
“Lord above, child!” Annie put down the bread she’d been kneading and wiped her hands on her apron. “What be wrong wit you?”
“Annie… I know her!” I said. “I know the girl who wrote this diary.”
Annie looked at me, real serious all of a sudden, and then she beckoned me back into the living room and sat me down on the sofa and took my hand.
“You tell Annie everything,” she said.
“I saw her in my dream,” I said. “You know, during the fever when you first brought me here?”
“I remember,” Annie nodded. “You had a dream about a girl…”
“No,” I said, “it wasn’t like that. In my dream I was her. I felt her fear and her pain and everything as if it was happening to me…”
I held up the ancient diary so that Annie could see the battered gold initials on the cover.
“F and M,” I said. “Felipa Molina. It’s the same girl. I didn’t know for sure until I read the diary entry for the twenty-second of September, but it’s all in there! Everything that happened in my dream – the stables in Spain, the beautiful mare, the soldiers coming for me – it all really happened to her!”
I clasped the diary tight in my shaky hands, afraid to open it again and even more afraid to put it down. “Annie, how can I be her and me at the same time?” I said. “Felipa lived in fourteen-ninety-three…”
Annie reached out and put her arms round me. “So what now? You think you must be crazy?”
I nodded.
Annie held me close. “Child, ain’t notink crazy about you. You be special, dat what you is. You got de obeah. De Medicine Hat, she be powerful wit de obeah and you is too, you is connected to her.”
A tear ran down my cheek and I sniffled hard, trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m upset.”
“It’s OK.” Annie gave me a squeeze. “It’s scary bein’ different and special, it ain’t ever easy. But you been different all your life, Bee-a-trizz. There was always sometink callin’ out from inside of you. And now de horse, she feel it too and she be callin’ back to you.”
She reached up and brushed away my tears. Her touch on my skin was so gentle and kind. Just like she’d been with me that day after the mud hole when she stroked my brow and cared for me.
“Bee-a-trizz,” she said, “tings are goin’ to get real tough in de next few days. You gonna need to be brave, child, and strong too, plenty strong. You got sent to me for a reason, Bee-a-trizz. Annie knew it de moment she laid eyes on you.”
I took a deep breath. I was still clutching the diary tight, but my hands were no longer shaking. Annie was right. I had to be strong now. “What do I have to do?” I said.
Annie stood up. “First-all, we make lunch. Dem grits ain’t gonna cook demselves. Den you and me, we got some yard work to do.”
“Yard work?” I screwed up my face. It hardly sounded like I
was on a sacred mission. It was more like I was doing odd jobs around the house!
Annie walked over to the front porch and stared out at the horizon. “Time to get ready, Bee-a-trizz,” she said. “De storm be comin’.”
I stared out at the horizon. The sky was clear blue, just like always. “A storm?”
“It’s comin’, Bee-a-trizz,” Annie insisted. “Not far away. Maybe another day or two is all. Dey say it’s de big one dis time. When it strikes de coast, ain’t notink goin’ to survive.”
I thought about the Duchess and her herd out on the open unsheltered Bonefish Marshes. Back before the last storm struck, Annie said there were as many as thirty horses. Now there were just eight. If the herd stayed where they were, they would never survive.
“We have to get the horses to safety,” I said, “move them away from the beach until it passes.”
“Sure ’nuff, child,” Annie nodded. “Dey be safe here in de pens. But first we need to do some yard work. Gots to get de fences strong enough to hold dem…”
Making Annie’s ramshackle animal pens secure enough to hold the horses was a big job, and the sun was already past its highest point. Mom had only let me take the Zodiac on the condition that I would be back by dinnertime.
“I…” I had to leave, but I couldn’t get the words out. Annie needed me. If I didn’t stay and help, she would never get this place ready in time.
“…I want to help,” I said.
Annie grunted her approval. “Den we get started…”
It had been a long time since Annie last went to a hardware store. Her tools were a very rusty handsaw, an ancient hammer and a single pack of nails. There were no milled planks of timber either, just bits of old driftwood and fallen tree branches.
Annie got me doing the demolition work first – getting rid of the bits of the pens that were rotten and weak; ripping the old, damaged boards off with my hammer – while she cooked us grits.
After we’d eaten lunch, she did the washing-up and then came out to help me with the pens, preparing the new boards to be nailed up.