The youth’s response spoke volumes to his character. He did not jump out of his seat in surprise nor did he turn white with fear. Instead, he delivered a dismissive answer without even turning around to face Hastelloy. “I wouldn’t know. I never ventured out into the city past sunset.” Juan then tried resuming the previous conversation, but Hastelloy was way ahead of him in that strategy of avoidance.
“Big men like the five of you surely need more to eat and drink. I think you’ll find some extras in the kitchen,” Hastelloy said to the five large men seated on either side of Juan, the very same brawny fellows who helped Hastelloy put down the mutiny on their voyage to the new lands.
That sufficiently shook the boy’s confidence. Juan looked with alarm to his left, then to his right in the hopes that someone would remain as cover, but to no avail. The nearest person was a distant four place settings down the table; that is until Hastelloy sat down next to him to have a private chat.
“I believe we were talking about how safe the streets of Lisbon felt,” Hastelloy prompted.
“I always found the danger posed by the streets of any city to be proportional to the number of friends I had around me. Maybe you weren’t very popular in the Portuguese capital,” Juan answered with his posture showing a resurgent confidence.
“Perhaps it’s best that you left the city with us then,” Hastelloy offered. “I managed to kill four of our assailants before the king’s guards sent the last one scurrying away like a cowardly rat.
Juan furrowed his brow and pulled his head back in surprise. “That only serves to make me feel all the safer. There are now four fewer thieves running around the streets of Lisbon than before thanks to you.”
“Maybe you have four fewer friends in Lisbon, thanks to me,” Hastelloy came right out and accused in order to gauge Juan’s reaction. Nothing revealed more about a person than how they responded to surprise.
Juan considered his reply for a few heartbeats and must have concluded there was no right answer and instead changed the subject. “Come to think of it, you asked if I was happy to leave Lisbon. The answer is yes. I feel truly blessed for the opportunity to spend two days and nights among your brave crew. The stories I’ve heard and the things I’ve seen over the last few days are the stuff of legend.”
“Gold nuggets, wild turkeys, and peppers,” Hastelloy listed with boredom evident in his tone. “You need to get out more, Boy, if that impressed you.”
That drew a soft chuckle from Juan before he replied, “Sometimes it’s the small things that get my attention. For instance, the name ‘Boy’ you keep calling me. The crew aboard the first ship I apprenticed on, particularly my mentoring navigator, used to call me that. He was also quite good with a sword and employed unconventional techniques like shifting weight onto his back foot to draw his opponent into a mistake.”
“It almost sounds like you were there the night Admiral Columbus and I were attacked,” Hastelloy observed.
“It almost sounds like you were on that first vessel I served aboard,” Juan fired back before pausing to take a drink from his wine glass. “But no, I was not there the night you were assailed. It just so happens that Admiral Columbus was quite detailed in his retelling of the duel.”
“The admiral is too kind,” Hastelloy demurred, knowing full well that Columbus would never lavish such praise upon another man. He even had it on good authority that the admiral was actually claiming credit for stopping the assassins himself. Juan was definitely the fifth attacker. The only questions remaining now were why and on whose order?
“Out of curiosity, what ever happened to that first crew of yours?” Hastelloy asked to keep Juan off balance.
“They were lost at sea I’m afraid; very tragic.”
“I bet,” Hastelloy answered with a forced detachment from the vivid memory of a sword stabbed through his back at the hand of this young man.
Juan seized upon the uncomfortable silence to redirect the conversation once more. “Those pineapple fruits and tobacco plants were certainly exotic, not to mention the natives. The thing is they look nothing like the individuals I have met from the Orient. Their skin tone, cheek bones, nose, and spacing between their eyes is all wrong.”
“Ah, you still believe that Admiral Columbus reached some new lands rather than the East Indies like the rest of us who were actually there contend,” Hastelloy challenged.
“Had those gigantic, spine-covered fruits ever been seen before, we all would have heard about it. Who could forget the sight of them?” Juan insisted, “And that tobacco? A plant you smoke and get a buzz to rival any beer or wine? That will catch on like wildfire. Somebody would already be selling this tobacco if it had ever been seen before.”
“Face facts, Sir. You were in a new part of the world, not Asia,” Juan concluded.
“You seem quite sure of yourself on the matter,” Hastelloy said. “It’s fortunate then that the admiral and I survived the assassination attempt so that the world will know the truth about the new trade route we discovered.”
“What makes you so sure that I’m wrong,” Juan challenged.
“I trust my own mapping and navigational abilities far more than the opinion of a boy who apprenticed aboard a vessel that was . . . lost at sea did you say?” Hastelloy leveled as a stinging insult. “Not exactly a feather in your cap.”
Juan looked ready to throw a drink in Hastelloy’s face before he settled back into his chair with a cocky smirk across his lips. “The king of England has invited this boy to visit his court. His Royal Majesty is anxious to hear all about the conclusions I’ve reached concerning your discovery. Who may I ask is seeking your opinion on the matter?”
The statement hit Hastelloy with the force of a cannonball. The implied insult meant nothing to him, but the fact that Juan had a meaningful forum for his completely accurate conclusion was of great concern. It became all too obvious to Hastelloy that Juan was working for the Portuguese crown.
King John learned of the new lands four years earlier and did nothing with that knowledge. No settlement fleets, no further exploration. If the Portuguese king wanted to kill Columbus, he could have ordered his ship sunk before reaching the docks of Lisbon and blamed it on the storm.
The Portuguese monarch must have wanted to hear what Columbus had to say about his voyage before ordering his assassination. If Columbus talked of new lands, he would live to tell the story King John wanted out in the world. Otherwise, Juan would take over. He would kill Columbus and then spread some coin among Columbus’ crew and nudge them to support his version.
With that realization, Juan’s threat level to Hastelloy and his plans grew tenfold. He needed a consistent message to get around Europe that the discovery was a trade route and nothing more. Millions of lives, both human and Novi hinged upon it. Hastelloy had planned on staying with Columbus to make the diplomatic rounds, but the threat posed by Juan’s agenda now took precedence.
“I take it that you’re heading to London immediately after these festivities conclude?” Hastelloy asked with a straight face.
“Yes I am,” Juan confirmed. “Bright and early on the morrow. Would you care to join me . . . and my friends?”
Hastelloy let out a soft inward chuckle at the veiled threat before cracking a smile and raising his glass toward Juan, “I think I’ve spent enough time aboard the confines of tiny boats for a while. I should warn you, though, King Henry does not respond well to foolish presentations.”
“And proposing that our new trade route to Asia is an entirely new landmass undiscovered for thousands of years certainly runs the risk of being deemed foolish by the English king. I’d hate to see you laughed out of his royal chambers,” Hastelloy said before standing to leave Juan’s company.
“The way King Henry laughed when you left his court?” Juan called to Hastelloy as he walked away.
“No one is laughing now are they?” Hastelloy countered without turning around.
Chapter 18: Turnabout is Foul Play
Fortunately, Hastelloy’s minor celebrity status as an officer aboard Columbus’ now famous voyage gave him some pull with the harbormaster. He also carried a large amount of coin, which helped convince the ship’s captain that there was indeed room for one more.
Money made so many things go more smoothly in life and travel, but it did not solve all problems. The short notice of the voyage left Hastelloy in unfamiliar territory. He could not book passage for any of his allies. He did not know the crew nor did he have adequate time to put any of them on his payroll before setting sail. This left Hastelloy alone and in the disconcerting position of having to ‘wing it’ rather than work from his usually well-thought-out plan with numerous contingency alternatives. This left him all alone and with no margin for error during the five-day voyage from Barcelona to London.
Hastelloy kept a low profile on the first day. He was content to observe Juan’s activities from the shadows until he could find an opportunity. Unfortunately, the young troublemaker was true to his word from the night before. He avoided potential dangers by surrounding himself with friends, and Juan appeared to be quite the socialite. Two Spaniards, a pair of Portuguese-speaking brothers, and an Englishman kept Juan company at all times.
In addition, there was a Frenchman milling about the passengers and crew who drew some concern from Hastelloy. The tall, skinny man never approached Juan’s group directly but appeared to give updates to the Englishman any time he got up to relieve himself over the ship’s railing.
This clearly took the option of abducting Juan off the table. Hastelloy was good in a physical confrontation, but he was no Commander Gallono. Taking on six men was beyond his abilities.
Based on the prior evening’s conversation, there was no changing Juan’s mind through dialogue or debate any time soon. There was the possibility of bribing the young man to say what Hastelloy wanted, but there was more to his actions than a simple quest for money. Juan was fighting for something: a cause, a faith, a nation, or perhaps even a person. Either way, it made him impervious to bribery.
This left Hastelloy with only one option, young Juan needed to have an “accident.” He would have done it the night before on dry land in Barcelona, but, again, Juan proved to be a popular fellow. He entertained two ladies in his bed while a pair of guards stood watch outside his bedchamber. The accident would have to happen at sea.
Getting to a well-protected man, even a king with all his bodyguards, was all about timing. No security measures were airtight, though Juan’s were close. He maintained a private supply of food for himself and his protectors, so poisoning was off the table. At least two guards were on duty at all times and worked three-hour shifts to avoid the onset of boredom or fatigue.
There was, however, one vulnerability. Human physiology required that if food went into the body, it would eventually have to leave the body. No one, not even well-paid bodyguards, liked to be around when that happened.
The first two days, Juan did his business over the side of the ship during broad daylight. Even if Hastelloy managed to sneak up and push him over the side, the entire ship was awake to spot the man overboard and rescue him.
There was the possibility of slitting Juan’s throat with his britches down around his ankles, but Hastelloy dismissed that option. Any half-wit with a blade could sacrifice his own life to take another. It took creativity and finesse to do the job and get away with it without notice or prosecution. It was a measure of last resort, but Hastelloy’s pride and desire not to get arrested, executed, and start over for a third time on this mission to settle the new continents forced him to be patient. He had three more days and nights aboard the boat with Juan. He could afford to wait.
Hastelloy had little difficulty finding a spot near the rear of the boat to pass the time for nature to call to Juan. Deck space for sitting or lying down aboard a crowded transport vessel was fiercely guarded everywhere except along the back railing.
Fifty passengers and crew provided a nearly constant stream of people urinating and defecating over the railing. This meant getting stepped on several times an hour while putting up with a rather pungent aroma in the air. Hastelloy had no difficulty finding a place to sit upright along the back railing with the hood of his coat covering his head. There he waited in anonymity for his prey to come to him, looking like any other peasant passing time on the long journey.
His patience met its reward on the third night. Well past the midnight hour, Hastelloy watched Juan stand up, shake off his blanket, and walk to the back railing. One bodyguard gave a halfhearted effort to go with him, but remained ten feet away behind a set of barrels when Juan’s bare cheeks touched the railing.
Hastelloy performed a visual check to locate each member of Juan’s entourage before moving a muscle. Four were still asleep in the group’s corner, the fifth guard had his back turned while standing behind the barrels, and the Frenchman had been below deck since sundown. The moment of action had arrived.
He reached into his left sleeve and retrieved a dagger. Then, like a snake silently coiling itself to deliver a venomous strike, he tucked his legs underneath him to spring forward. Juan was only six feet away with his pants down. A stab to the lungs would steal his ability to scream while a shoulder bump would send him over the side with a muffled splash no different from the waves beating against the ship’s hull. Two seconds and it would be over, with no one the wiser.
Hastelloy pushed off the railing with his shoulders while his legs propelled him to his feet. He moved his right leg forward to take the single step necessary to reach Juan. At the exact moment Hastelloy’s body committed to the weight shift forward, his toe snagged on something and his body moved forward with no foot in place to land. The pull of gravity did the rest to send him tumbling to the deck.
He tucked his shoulder to continue the momentum of his fall and bring his feet back around in a sideways somersault. He planted his feet to bring himself vertical again and in doing so, sent the hood of his coat off his head to rest against his back. He held out hope that Juan was still vulnerable, but the boy was already on his feet with the Frenchman standing between him and Hastelloy, with the other bodyguard rounding the barrels to join the fray.
Hastelloy stole a glance down to his left in an effort to piece together what had gone wrong with his attack. He spotted his vacant seat along with another two places down the railing where the Frenchman had sat in disguise, waiting for Hastelloy to reveal himself.
Outnumbered, lacking the element of surprise any longer, and not wanting to make a scene, Hastelloy tucked away his dagger and slowly backed away from the confrontation.
Juan seemed content to stand there with his manhood swinging in the breeze and watch the failed assassin withdraw. It was a small ship with nowhere to hide and another three days and nights left to the voyage. Time and numbers were on his side and the cocky smirk on Juan’s lips said it all: ‘I’ve got you right where I want you.’
Chapter 19: Sleepless Nights
IN EVERY SITUATION, Hastelloy made it a deliberate point to exclude pessimism from his mind-set. He never saw much value in harping on the negatives of a predicament since there was always something good to work with: a backup plan, turning a weakness into a strength, or an enemy’s overconfidence. At the moment, Hastelloy was having an exceedingly difficult time holding himself to that policy.
After the failed assassination attempt, the element of surprise was gone. Juan knew Hastelloy was aboard, where he was, and that he was there to kill him. What’s more, the boy was clever enough to anticipate Hastelloy’s plan and set up a ploy to draw him out into the open. Now Juan and his entourage had Hastelloy outnumbered six to one with nowhere for him to hide
for the next three days and nights.
The odds did not bother him so much. Hastelloy could play ring around the ship railing well enough to make his assailants split into two groups. That narrowed the mismatch down to three versus one. Hastelloy knew he could last long enough against those odds for the ship’s crew or other passengers to intervene on his behalf. What concerned Hastelloy most was time.
Aboard a transport vessel, the hours dragged on as if Father Time himself held them back. That is why most passengers slept the days and nights away as best they could, but Hastelloy could not afford that luxury. The moment his eyes closed, he would find one of Juan’s men drawing a knife across his throat. Hastelloy needed to be on the lookout at all times for Juan’s men.
He could not just sit against the railing with his eyes glued open, Juan saw to it that Hastelloy’s mind was constantly engaged tracking the whereabouts of his agents. The six of them took turns testing his vulnerability without end, day and night, while their compatriots took a much-needed rest.
The first twenty-four hours passed without much incident. Hastelloy stayed on the weather deck at all times and, for the most part, maneuvered to remain opposite the ship from Juan’s men. He even managed to spare enough brainpower to formulate a plan of action to impede Juan’s presentation to King Henry once they reached London.
The second day gave way to a few close calls. Hastelloy did not respond as quickly to his enemy’s movements and at times took less than optimal escape routes away from trouble. All of which led to increasingly harrowing predicaments. Still, he managed to come out unscathed.
Despite his best effort, by the time day three drew to a close, Hastelloy’s exhaustion peaked. He had been awake, moving, and his mind on high alert for over seventy hours. The port of London was still five hours away and Juan’s men knew that fact just as well as Hastelloy.
At the moment, all six of them were on the move about the ship. Hastelloy had eyes on only three of them. He thought one was still below deck but could not be sure. He knew the other two had changed clothes and returned from down below, but his sleep-deprived mind could not recall what their new garments looked like. For all he knew they could be, and probably were, right next to him.
Origins: Discovery Page 13