Aztec Blood a-3

by Gary Jennings

  I steadied my nerves and drew a deep breath. Then I burst through the door of my room, my blade at the ready.

  A one-eyed man looked up at me from the bed where he was enjoying a sack of wine and the mulatta I had refused.

  "Eh, Bastardo, put down that sword. Did I not always tell you that as a bladesman, you were a dead man?"

  ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN

  Mateo sent the puta out, and I sat in a chair with my feet on the end of the bed as he relaxed back against the pillows. His left eye was covered by a black patch.

  I shook my head at the sight of the patch. "And what is the name of that wound, compadre? Margarita? Juanita? Sofia?"

  "This one is the duchess."

  "Ah, so the duke came back from the wars and caught you in bed with his wife. A cousin to the queen, no less."

  "A cousin to the devil, for sure. She sent the duke an 'anonymous' message soon after I began bedding her, thinking, no doubt, that jealousy would win him back."

  "How bad is the eye?"

  "Bad? There is nothing wrong with it." He lifted the patch to expose a blood red, empty socket. I winced.

  "The eye is fine. I just don't have it anymore."

  "A sword fight?"

  "Nothing so honorable. The duke's men held me while he gouged it. He was about to do the other eye when I broke lose."

  "Did you cut his throat or gouge his eyes out?"

  "Neither. His throat is fine and so are both his eyes. However, he now pees through a straw."

  "Well done. And how did you manage to maim a duke and live?"

  He grinned. "By moving very quickly. The last ship of the treasure fleet had sailed from Seville when I reached the docks. I hired a fast coastal runner to chase it down. I caught up to a boat that was having difficulty with its rigging. It had a destination of Hispaniola, not Veracruz. From there a boat put me into Veracruz. When I heard about a clean-shaven man with a scar on his cheek who had saved a lady from pirates, eh, who could it be but my old compadre? Who else would be so foolish as to fight pirates rather than join them?"

  "Mateo, I'm in trouble."

  "So I have heard, Don Carlos. Even the puta mulatta knows you stole your wife-to-be's dowry from her father's house and fled, leaving her pregnant."

  "I did that? What a thief!"

  "Worse than a thief. It was cowardly and not honorable. Had you killed the father in a duel, men would hide you from the king's agents in their homes. But to steal a dowry from the father? And severely wound him by hitting him over the head with a candlestick? A candlestick! How can he hold his head-up to his friends after he had been felled by a candlestick? It was a silver candlestick and you stole that, too. Oh, Don Carlos, you are a bad one. You would be in chains right now if Eléna's uncle had not become viceroy."

  I advised Mateo of my activities since I left Seville, right up to Soto's dinner invitation. "Those chains and noose you mentioned are still waiting for me. I am going to dinner Saturday at the house of Miguel de Soto's. Another guest will be an old friend of my family."

  "Which family?"

  "The one in Spain."

  "Someone knows Don Carlos here in Mexico City?"

  "One person for certain. An old man who knows all of my sins. I'm told he's half blind, but he could tell I'm a fake in the dark. The way Fortune is laughing at me, there may be another intimate or victim of Don Carlos on every street corner, waiting to expose me."

  "Ah, Bastardo, this is what comes of thinking for yourself. Had you told me you were returning to reap revenge, I would not have let you come alone. I would still have my eye, and you would not be in this mess. What is your plan? To murder the old man? Gouge his eyes out before dinner?"

  "I considered both. But I have neither the heart nor the nerve for either."

  "Silencing the old man before he can tell the world of your sins would throw suspicion on you."

  "I've thought of that, too. I'm also considering using yoyotli dust. If I can find it." I reminded him how we used the dream dust to disorient Isabella's maid.

  "It's risky. And it fails to do one thing: validate you as Don Carlos."

  "You think this old man will do that? He has not seen Don Carlos for seven or eight years, but I have seen Carlos, and I look nothing like him. His skin, hair, and eyes are all lighter than mine. This old man could smell me and know I'm not the son of his old friend."

  "Soto is trying to find a way to justify dealing with you, even if it's behind the back of his compadres. So far he has heard stories about you that intrigue him. You are a thief and a scoundrel. That fits in nicely with his own plans. But he needs to know more about you. If he doesn't get enough information from the old man, he may keep inquiring. You could do worse than an old man who depends upon a monocle to see."

  "A single eyeglass will let him see enough of me to know I'm a fraud."

  "Perhaps. But what if it were broken? Ground eyeglasses are rare and expensive. No one here in New Spain can make such a thing. It would take at least a year to replace if something happened to his only glass."

  "I don't know. Perhaps the best course for me is to forget Luis and Alva. I could kidnap Eléna and take her to some deserted paradise."

  "And as which scoundrel would you present yourself to her? The mestizo bandit who terrorized the roads of New Spain? Or the worthless son of a hidalgo who beat an old man with a candlestick to steal his daughter's dowry?"

  Mateo stayed at the inn when I left for the viceroy's palace. He told me to have the innkeeper send the puta back up. Lust helped him think, he said.

  A soldado at the main gate escorted me into the reception area of the palace, turning me over to the viceroy's aide. The viceroy's household, both premises and staff, had a regal presence. Rugs and tapestries were lavish, artistically embroidered, gold thread predominating. A fieldstone fireplace had a massive maw from which hung a variety of fire tools. Great silver candlesticks on the fireplace mantel in the reception room were almost as tall as me. Against a wall stood stiff, straightback chairs of mahogany and darkly polished leather.

  Most people would be impressed with how many pesos such luxury was worth. I wondered how many lives such affluence cost.

  It was only to be expected that the viceroy lived like a king. In truth, he was one. He ruled with near-absolute power a land five times the size of Spain. While the high court called the Audiencia and the archbishop both had a say, the viceroy could overrule either. Complaints about his conduct had to be presented to the king in Madrid through the Council of the Indies. The process could take a year for matters of some urgency and forever for lesser matters.

  I waited nervously for the summons to appear before him. Would Eléna be there? Would her eyes be full of contempt? Probably no more than I already felt myself. My entire life was now one huge house of lies, each stacked atop another. Not even I knew the truth.

  I felt eyes on me and turned around to find Eléna had entered the room. She paused just inside the door and had stopped to look at me with concern. With a smile, she came to me, her hand held out in greeting. I kissed it.

  "Doña Eléna, we meet again."

  "Don Carlos, I am happy to see you are well. You gave us a fright when you left the hacienda. At first we thought you had taken a wrong turn and became lost."

  "My apologies, my lady, I was sneaking away to stop being a trouble for so many people."

  "You caused no fuss, only concern for a man who had risked his life for me. I realize that you wish to maintain your privacy. However, my uncle learned that you were to be the guest of Don Miguel de Soto. He has asked Don Miguel to invite you another time so you may attend a reception here at the palace."

  I murmured my assent, maintaining my smile, while I cringed at the prospect of being displayed before all the notables in the city.

  As we looked into each other's eyes, my heart melted. She started to say something and looked away as she hesitated. A cross hung from a silver chain around her neck. I was jolted when I saw it; it was
my mother's cross, the one the Inquisition lawyer had taken from me. Seeing the cross shook me, and I had difficulty keeping my composure.

  Her eyes were moist when they met mine again. A blush had pinked her cheeks. She spoke in a low, confidential tone. "That problem you left in Spain. I've spoken to my uncle; he will help."

  "Eléna," I took her hand, my heart was tearing at what she must think of me, "I'm so sorry."

  "Eléna!"

  We both snapped to attention.

  Luis had entered the reception area.

  For a moment I was flustered. I instinctively reached for my sword and cleared the scabbard by several inches before I caught myself.

  Luis's lips formed a smile, but his eyes were as I remembered. Hard. Snake eyes staring up from a luckless throw of the dice.

  "I didn't mean to startle you. The viceroy is waiting."

  "Don Carlos, may I present my fiancé, Don Luis de la Cerda."

  I exchanged bows with him, barely able to keep my face neutral. The word "fiancé" had caught me off guard.

  "You have the appreciation of all New Spain for your efforts on behalf of Doña Eléna. And you especially have the thanks of her future husband."

  He bowed again. The words were spoken with sincerity. But each one grated on me and set my teeth on edge. I did not doubt that he was attracted to Eléna, but I knew the man was incapable of truly loving a woman. I remembered his comments from so long ago when I was hidden under the seat of a carriage.

  "We had better join the viceroy," Eléna said.

  Eléna led the way, with Luis behind me. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. I had seen something in Luis's eyes when he spoke his thanks to me—jealousy. When Eléna and I had looked into each other's eyes, Luis had spotted something beyond my saving her life.

  Unlike myself, Luis's appearance had not changed. His beard covered many of the pox scars, but his eyes betrayed the harshness of his dark soul.

  I was consumed by anger at the tragic murders of the people I loved. But even at that I felt no animosity for the world at large. What twists of fate, what disappointments had caused this scion of wealth and power to stain his birthright with common thievery. I knew the stories of his need to involve himself in business. True, his father had squandered the family fortune. If Luis had not accumulated one of his own, he would have traded his title for a rich man's daughter and dowry rather than marrying into the viceroy's family.

  What had caused Eléna to change her mind about entering a convent? My suspicion was that the change in plans had to do with Eléna's pleas to her uncle on my behalf. In a convent she would be safe from the monster, and I could dream of stealing her away. Ay, my new disguise as a gentleman of Spain had driven her farther from me and into the arms of a villain.

  Don Diego Veles de Maldonato was short, no taller than Eléna, but he made up for his diminutive stature with aristocratic arrogance and a steely gaze of cold command. He wore his mustache and beard short, his hair as close cropped as a monk's. He ruled as a king a wild land as large as half a dozen European countries combined. Although he was known to have mistresses, the viceroy was a widower without children. He had raised Eléna as his own daughter.

  After proper introductions had been made, the viceroy came around from his gilt desk to personally inquire as to the status of my wound.

  "Don Carlos, your boldness and courage were most noble. Had there been a dozen more like you in Veracruz, the entire pirate army would have been summarily routed."

  "I am sure there were greater acts of bravery that morning, Your Excellency. In fact, if your niece had not stabbed the man who was about to chop off my head, I would be buried in Veracruz rather than standing before you today."

  "In truth, naked greed not lost courage stripped our soldados of their weapons. And as for my niece, I have lectured her many times about carrying daggers and other unladylike conduct. Fortunately for you both, my niece ignores my advice."

  "Uncle, that is not true. I listen to all your commands."

  "But obeying them is something else."

  Eléna murmured her dissent... quietly.

  "But as we know, this time her disobedience proved expedient. In any event custody of her iron will soon fall to another's hand; I am certain Don Luis will invite you to the place of honor at his wedding table."

  Luis bowed. "We would be most honored if Don Carlos graced our banquet table."

  "I live for the day," I said evenly.

  "I will see Don Carlos alone for a moment," the viceroy said.

  When Luis and Eléna had left the room, he dropped his veneer of grace and reverted to an administrator dealing with a problem.

  "Your rescue of Eléna was fortuitous on several counts. You saved my niece from unspeakable horrors and perhaps even death. The debacle of our soldados being without powder and ball to resist the attack will resound all the way to Madrid and back. The alcalde and fort commander will be punished, though not to the extent that the people are crying for. Your daring rescue of my niece has in a small way overshadowed the shame of defeat. The rescue has figured prominently in the dispatch that has been sent to the king. As soon as he receives it, the news will quickly make its way to your home province."

  And when it did, word would fly to Madrid that I was a wanted man.

  "I related the story of your daring in the most compelling language, giving it all the praise it deserved. I also hinted at a matter of youthful indiscretion that must be cleared up. Until we hear from Madrid, I will not know what honor to bestow upon you."

  Or whether to remove my head, I thought.

  "You, of course, will remain in the city until word comes."

  Eh, I was not to leave town. It would take six months to a year for Madrid to sort it all out.

  The viceroy clasped my good hand. "Understand this, young man. In my mind, what you did for my niece makes up a thousand-fold for whatever acts you committed in Spain. But we must move slowly and carefully to ensure that this grand gesture wipes away the sins of the past. If nothing further comes of this, I praise God that the situation has enabled me to convince Eléna to marry one of the finest young men of New Spain."

  Luis was waiting for me when I came out of the viceroy's chamber.

  "I will escort Don Carlos from the building," he told the viceroy's secretary.

  As we walked, Luis asked if the viceroy had given me adequate assurances concerning my "difficulties."

  "He has been most generous," I said.

  "Eléna has suggested that you may wish to meet some of our city's more eligible women. Few places on earth boast women and horses that are as well-bred and beautifully proportioned as in this city. As your own father may have told you, there is a great deal of similarity between how one handles a fine woman and a fine horse."

  I could not suppress a grin. If Eléna could have heard this again!

  "I'm afraid my father never compared my mother to a horse; but perhaps he was not the master of either, which I'm sure your own father was."

  "My father is the master of nothing, not even the cards and drink he squanders his life on."

  Luis's voice had turned hard and angry. His short temper inspired me to provoke him further.

  "Your gracious offer to introduce me to the ladies of your city is most generous. And as soon as my wound has healed, I shall accept your kindness." I stopped and faced him. "You know, señor, I fell in love with the lovely Eléna and had hoped she would return my affection. I was saddened to learn she was betrothed."

  Luis's veneer of civility vanished. For a tense moment I believed he would draw his sword in the viceroy's palace, all of which pleased me greatly.

  "Good day, señor," I said, with a curt nod and bow. I turned my back to him and left, bearing an uneasy feeling between my shoulder blades that a dagger might find its way there.

  ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

  "You did what?" I directed my exasperation at Mateo in the courtyard of my newly rented quarters. He was not a man who
spent his life walking toward the gallows—he ran for the noose.

  Mateo fondled his ever-present wine goblet, an expression of smug self-righteousness on his face. He smiled thinly at me through a haze of smoke. "Do you wish to discuss this matter calmly and quietly or would you rather we trumpeted it to your servants and neighbors."

  I sat down. "Tell me what madness drove you to visit Don Silvestre. Start at the beginning so I will know whether to leave town... or garrote you."

  He shook his head and tried to look innocent, which hardly rang true: His face was a battlefield of those scars that each bore a woman's name.

  "Bastardo, my compadre—"

  "Ex-compadre."

  "I went to the house of your old family friend, Don Silvestre, a fine old caballero. There is snow on his head, his legs are weak at the knees, not to mention bowed from a lifetime on the saddle, but fire still burns in his heart. He is as you imagined him—mostly blind. I made the pretense of asking to examine his eyepiece. Without it, he could not count my fingers a foot from his nose."

  "I hope you broke the glass."

  "Of course not. Would a caballero like myself do that to an old knight?"

  "Not unless it would assist you at a cantina's card table or into a woman's bed."

  He sighed and emptied the goblet with a long drink. He refilled it before he went on with his story.

  "We shall save breaking the old man's eyepiece to another day," he said.

  "Soto's party has been changed to the viceroy's palace. The old man will probably attend."

  "I already know that. He will not just attend, he is riding with us in our carriage."

  "Santa Maria, Holy Mother of God." I got down on my knees and prayed before a stone angel pouring water into the patio fountain. "Save me from this madman, Holy Madre, and have God send lightning to strike him down."

  "Bastardo, you panic too easily. You must face life's setbacks with equanimity, not hysteria. Now get up off your knees. I am not your priest."

  I got to my feet. "Tell me how I am to ride in a carriage to the viceroy's ball with a man who will expose me as a fake the moment he sees me."

  "The old man already believes you are Don Carlos because I have told him you are Don Carlos. You do not have to convince him. What you have to do is avoid un-convincing him. It will be dark when we pick him up. The street boy who spies for you will suddenly rush out of the darkness, grab his eyeglass, and run away. Even if, God forbid, the attack fails, Don Silvestre still will not recognize you. He has to get very close even to see with his eyeglass. Like any old caballero, he is vain about his age and physical condition. He is not only half blind but half deaf. If you speak quietly when you are forced to speak, he will not notice. Also, I will be there to carry the conversation. Don Silvestre does not like you because you have violated the caballero's code of honor. He will not speak to you unless he has to. However, after explaining to him the true circumstance of the crimes in Spain..."