The Devils of Cardona

by Matthew Carr

  Everybody was gay and cheerful, and even Susana seemed to put aside her anxieties regarding her father’s journey to France. The countess’s enjoyment came to an abrupt end, however, when a servant announced that the Marquis of Espinosa was waiting in the reception room. She had half expected a visit from her father-in-law, but she had even less desire to see him now than she usually did. She found him in the guest room, perched on the edge of the sofa with his long neck and balding head protruding from the white ruff, one clawlike hand agitatedly tapping a bony knee with its long nails, like a vulture waiting for carrion.

  “Isabel, how nice to see you!” He smiled.

  She offered her cheeks and sat down opposite him with her hands resting on the black satin dress like pale sea creatures resting on a seabed and looked at him warily. As always, her father-in-law’s deep-set brown eyes reminded her of her late husband, but unlike his son’s, the count’s eyes always had a faintly predatory glint that inevitably undermined his attempts to be charming.

  “I assume you’ve come for money, sir?” she asked.

  The count’s smile immediately faded. “Is this how you greet your father-in-law on his granddaughter’s birthday?”

  “I wasn’t aware that you planned to visit her.”

  “Well, here I am.”

  “Then please let us come directly to the matter, as I wish to be with my daughter.”

  “Very well.” Espinosa sighed. “The answer to your question is no. I haven’t come to ask you for money. I have come to give you advice.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I needed anyone’s advice, sir, particularly yours.”

  “Believe me, you do. In three days’ time, Vallcarca will be here with his son. Rodrigo will once again ask for your hand in marriage. The baron has asked me to intercede on his behalf.”

  “That is very noble of you, sir. I am fortunate to have a father-in-law who pays such close attention to my interests.”

  “My dear, I have your interests at heart far more than you realize, and I urge you to accept this offer.”

  “And how is the baron?” she asked. “I understand he has been quite busy lately, arranging for three of my Moriscos to be handed over to the Inquisition.”

  “The crimes they committed were carried out on his estates, not yours, and the baron is perfectly within his rights to do whatever he sees fit. Vallcarca is not a man with a great deal of patience. And I fear that you are close to exhausting his limited reserves.”

  “Do you threaten me, sir?”

  “Come now, Isabel,” Espinosa said calmly. “I’m warning you, not threatening you. Accept this offer or—” The green eyes flashed momentarily before he left the sentence unfinished and sat back, as if he had said too much.

  “Or what?” the countess persisted.

  “Isabel.” Espinosa lowered his voice and leaned toward her, and for the first time since she had known him, the countess thought she detected a trace of genuine concern in his face. “These are powerful men. No one can oppose them. Let alone a woman on her own. I know how much Miguel cared for you, even though you did not reciprocate—”

  “You know nothing of my feelings for your son!”

  “Come now, my dear. The marriage was arranged before you were old enough to know anything about it. We both understand that. It was arranged by your father for your family’s sake. And I implore you to do this for the sake of your family now. It doesn’t matter what kind of man Rodrigo Vallcarca is. It wouldn’t even matter if he were a Jew. This is just the way the world works. Marry him and you will preserve your family’s estates. Refuse and you will lose everything.”

  “I would not marry Rodrigo Vallcarca if he were the last man in Aragon,” the countess replied. “And I will not hand over the House of Cardona to the Vallcarca family. I am scandalized, sir, that you, Miguel’s own father, would come to the home he once shared with me to try to persuade me to do something that is so completely contrary to his wishes or my own.”

  “Your concern for my son’s wishes is touching,” Espinosa sneered. “A pity you didn’t show a little more passion in the marriage bed. With a few more children, you wouldn’t be in the situation in which you now find yourself.”

  “You disgust me, sir! I did not choose to marry Miguel. That does not mean that I did not care for him in the way that a woman should.”

  “Perhaps.” Espinosa looked at her pityingly. “But if you don’t accept Vallcarca’s offer, then you’re more foolish than I took you for. I need to be back at court, Isabel. I can’t live buried alive in Toledo.”

  “Then you should have spent less time in gambling houses and paid your debts. You couldn’t even repay my dowry when Miguel died, yet now you expect to sacrifice my future and the good name of my family in order to pay for your weaknesses? I will not, sir.”

  Espinosa glared at her, and then his face immediately relaxed into a smile as Susana appeared in the door, holding Carolina by the hand.

  “Carolina!” he exclaimed, opening his arms. “Happy birthday! Come here, petal, and say hello to your grandfather! I’ve brought you something!”

  Carolina had never been especially fond of her grandfather, but she did as she was told and stood with her arms stiffly by her sides as Espinosa embraced her.

  “Now, close your eyes!” He pulled the girl closer toward him and placed a doll of a Moorish princess in her hands. As he did so, he looked over her head at the countess with a cynical, lopsided smile that only intensified the anger and disgust she felt toward him.

  “Thank you, abuelo!” Carolina said. “Mamá, will you dance with us?”

  “You go, darling, I’ll come in a minute. I assume you are leaving, sir?” she asked coldly when the child had gone.

  “Well, it is a long way to Huesca. I was planning to return in the morning.”

  The countess reluctantly agreed, and Espinosa went up to his room to change. She ordered Tomás to summon the bailiff Sánchez before returning to the dancing. An hour later the servant came back with a message from the bailiff’s wife saying that his father was seriously ill and that he had gone to Lérida for a few days.

  “Why didn’t he tell me he was going?” she asked irritably.

  “Señora Sánchez said he left in a hurry, my lady.”

  The countess felt sorry for the bailiff, but she was also annoyed that he was not available, because of all her servants and officials, Jean Sánchez was the one she depended on most in a crisis. In addition, Jean was also able to talk to her father-in-law and might have taken him hunting so that she would have less to do with him.

  For the rest of the day, she managed to maintain a façade of civility, thanks to the presence of Carolina and Susana. By the early evening, she could not stand the old man’s presence any longer. After putting Carolina to bed, she told Susana to tell the marquis that she had a headache and was retiring early. She let out a sigh of relief, sat down in front of the mirror and loosened her hair until her maidservant returned and knelt to unbutton her shoes.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” Susana asked as she began to unbutton the countess’s dress. “Did he say something to upset you?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  Susana stood behind her and took out the comb from her hair and began to unravel her braids. “If you’re worried, then I’m worried, too,” she said.

  “You have enough to worry about. Though your father is probably safer in France than he is here.”

  “You’re stiff as a board.”

  The countess closed her eyes as Susana began to massage her neck and shoulders and work her fingers skillfully into her muscles, until she felt her maidservant’s lips brush lightly against her neck.

  “Not now,” she murmured. “Not with that creature in the house.”

  “He won’t hear us.”

  The countess felt her resistance melting a
way as Susana sucked one of her earlobes and licked the inside of her ear. She reached back and pulled her maidservant toward her, holding her fast in a long, deep kiss as Susana’s hand slid down under the nightdress and gently molded her breasts.

  “Come to bed, my love,” Susana whispered. “Come.”

  The countess stood up obediently and let the dress fall to the floor as her maidservant took her hand and led her toward the canopy bed. She lay under the sheets, watching Susana unbutton her bodice and dress and let down her long, dark hair before extinguishing the lantern. The room was now so dark that the countess could barely see her maidservant draw the curtain around the bed. And then she no longer needed to see her and was no longer worried about the nameless threat that her father-in-law had brought into her house as she ran her fingers through her lover’s hair and responded to her kisses and caresses.

  Espinosa, Vallcarca, Mendoza and all her other would-be tormentors seemed to fade away into the warm summer night as the Countess of Cardona surrendered everything—propriety, morality and rank—to the perfect beauty she held in her arms, in the darkness that hid and protected them both.

  • • •

  IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON on the second day, Mendoza and Segura descended from the high mountains and reached the fertile floor of the Ossau Valley. Here the going was easier, and they rode across a flat plain, past vineyards and cultivated fields of wheat, millet and rye splashed with red poppies and open meadows bursting with wildflowers where sheep, goats and cattle grazed. Everywhere they saw signs of the power and wealth of the heretic kingdom of Béarn, from the cleared streams, well-maintained stone bridges and tollgates to the coned châteaus and castle towers protruding up through the thick forests of chestnut and tall pines that tumbled down from the steep, rocky heights on both sides of the valley and the stone or half-timbered farmhouses with barns large enough for entire families to live in.

  The towns and villages also impressed Mendoza. Even the more humble houses were better constructed than the ones they had seen on the higher slopes, with tile or thatched roofs instead of rushes and branches held down with stones. Their inhabitants also seemed less abject. In addition to the ubiquitous peasants and laborers in their clogs, bonnets, capelets and berets, and the barefoot boys and girls in identical soiled smocks, they passed fine carriages with curtained windows and busy markets stocked with bread, dried meats, fruits and vegetables, leather goods and metal tools.

  As they drew closer to Pau, the traffic on the road began to thicken and their progress was slowed by the flow of carts, wagons, soldiers and merchants, by peasants carrying bundles on their backs and families with their children, many of whom were in a boisterous and exuberant mood. When Segura asked where they were going, he was told that the Whitsun celebrations in Pau were now in their third day and that the king of Navarre and his court had come from his residence in Nérac to attend the jousting tournament.

  By the time they reached the capital, the road was so crowded that they had to slow the horses to walking pace as they crossed the great stone bridge that spanned the Gave and headed toward the enormous gray château that loomed out of the trees and buildings on the opposite bank. They eased their way through the holidaying crowds along an unpaved road overlooking a narrow ravine, past elegant stone houses with sloping tiled roofs and balconies draped with banners bearing the Navarre coat of arms and an assortment of silks and colored cloths and streamers.

  All around them revelers were tottering away from stalls and overcrowded taverns selling crepes, pies and pastries, sausages, meats and cooked fish or wine and cider, or gathered in rowdy groups to watch the bear baiters, cockfighters and chicken races, the clowns, jesters, jugglers and storytellers, and the hawkers selling ointments and fluids with miraculous healing powers. Many of the spectators were in an advanced state of inebriation. Some were singing and dancing lewd dances to the music of drums, flutes and horns. Others were throwing up, or lying facedown by the side of the road, or stuffing themselves with food at crowded tables where beggars and vagabonds mingled with the dogs circulating around them waiting for scraps and bones.

  Even a cursory inspection of the crowd revealed numerous offenses that Mendoza would have considered worthy of a warning or an arrest had he come across them in Valladolid, from the cardsharps and shell gamers to what appeared to be a couple openly copulating in an alleyway. But there was no evidence of any authority or control, and many of the soldiers and officers of the peace mingling with the crowd seemed no less inebriated than those around them. In the main square in front of the château, a jousting tourney was in progress, and Segura pointed out the grandstand just below the medieval wall, where the king and his guests were looking down on the proceedings. Below them spectators and combatants swarmed around the gaily colored round tents and ornate cloth-covered tilts, and armored knights charged each other with wooden lances or clashed with swords while others waited with their horses and squires for their turn.

  Normally Mendoza enjoyed such events, but he was impatient to find Péris. Finally they rounded the château and entered a warrenlike neighborhood that was noticeably humbler and quieter than the rest of the city. They dismounted and led their horses through the narrow, evil-smelling streets and lanes whose houses were so close together that it was almost possible to step from one roof to the other. Most of their occupants appeared to be at the festivities, and Segura asked the few people they encountered for the address that Péris’s wife had given him, until they reached a dank, unpaved street flanked by overhanging houses that reeked of the powerful stench of urine.

  Mendoza left Daniel on the corner to look after the horses and accompanied Segura to a door about halfway along the street. The mayor knocked discreetly, and a small, grizzled old man half opened the door and stared at them without a word. When Segura asked in French for Vicente Péris, he looked blank and shook his head. Mendoza was tired and hungry. The pain in his leg was returning now that Segura’s medicine had worn off, and he had not crossed the Pyrenees only to be told that he’d gotten the wrong address. Before the old man could shut the door, Mendoza drew his pistol and pointed it directly at his face.

  “Tell him I want to see for myself.”

  The old man did not require a translation, and he raised his arms and stepped backward as Mendoza followed him into the little room.

  “Vicente Péris!” Mendoza called out. “Vicente Péris from Aragon! Come out now!”

  There was the sound of footsteps from a back room, and then the young man whose handsome, angry face he had first seen in Belamar on the day of their arrival appeared in the doorway.

  “You’re not in Spain now, Alcalde Mendoza,” he said. “You can’t arrest me here.”

  Mendoza put the pistol back in his belt. “Is there something I ought to be arresting you for, Señor Péris?”

  “In Spain you don’t need a reason—not when it comes to Moriscos. Here you do.” Péris looked disgustedly at Segura. “So you brought him here, old man. I didn’t think even you would sink this low.”

  “He just wants the truth about what happened in Vallcarca, Vicente.”

  “There are those who say you are the man they call the Redeemer,” Mendoza said.

  Péris looked both angry and surprised. “Who says so?”

  “Baron Vallcarca.”

  “And of course you believe him.”

  “I never said I did.”

  “I had nothing to do with those nuns!” Péris burst out. “We never even saw them.”

  “What were the three of you doing in Vallcarca?” Mendoza asked.

  Péris looked suddenly guarded. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?” Mendoza sat down on one of the chairs and stretched out his aching leg. “You yourself said I can’t arrest you.”

  “I may be safe. But my family isn’t. Or the families of the others.”

  “I swear to you that
nothing will happen to any of them as a result of anything you say to me here.”

  “You swear!” Péris gave a bitter half smile. “Like Queen Isabel and King Fernando swore to our great-grandfathers in Granada that they could continue to practice their faith in peace and then forced them to become Christians? Like the lords of Aragon swore that we would be protected from the Inquisition? No, Licenciado, here I don’t have to obey any Spanish officials, and I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  Mendoza patted his thigh with the pistol. “Then I will have to take you back to Spain and make you talk.”

  “You’ll have to shoot me first.”

  “No one is going to shoot anybody,” said Segura nervously. “Your Honor, may I have a word?”

  Mendoza was reluctant to leave Péris alone, but his defiance made it clear that he was not planning to go anywhere. He followed the mayor out into the street and stood facing the doorway, still holding his pistol in his hand.

  “If I may be so bold, Don Bernardo, you aren’t thinking with your usual clarity,” Segura said. “You can’t just come here and wave a pistol around. This isn’t some pagan kingdom. They have laws here.”

  “The old man was lying.”

  “That may be so, but I know Péris, and I’m telling you he won’t respond to threats from you or anyone else. I know a place where we might be able to stay. Let’s go there, and I’ll come back and talk to him alone. I’m sure if I explain the situation to him calmly, then I can get him to speak to you.”

  “And suppose he tries to escape?”