The Falcons of Fire and Ice

by Karen Maitland

  ‘A young girl has arrived in Belém. She has been making inquiries about ships bound for Iceland. We believe she means to go there to capture a pair of gyrfalcons which she intends to present to King Sebastian. It is vital for the future of Portugal that she does not succeed. You will sail with her and use your considerable skill at charming women to befriend her. We want you to ensure she does not return with the white falcons.’

  I don’t know quite what task I’d been expecting them to charge me with – delivering a package to someone, or even stealing a holy relic for them from a shrine – but stopping a girl capturing a couple of birds was definitely not what I expected to hear.

  ‘I can’t imagine why a gift of a few birds should affect the future of Portugal,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you just tell her the king doesn’t like birds and suggest she stitch him a nice shirt instead?’ I tried to grin, but my lips were too cracked and sore.

  The two priests regarded me with an icy contempt. It was a look that reminded me that my life still dangled precariously in their hands.

  I added hastily, ‘What I mean is, Father, if … if you don’t want the girl to go and find these birds, why don’t you arrest her or simply forbid her to leave?’

  ‘She must be seen to go to Iceland, and she must be seen to fail in her quest. If she is arrested or if she should fall mortally sick before she has a chance to sail, there is a danger that His Majesty, being at an impressionable age, might express a certain sympathy towards her and her family. This he must not do. You must see that she is well away from these shores before any … accident befalls her. What happens after that we will leave to your discretion.’

  What did they mean – accident ? Were they suggesting I trip her up and break her leg? In my bewilderment I had almost forgotten that my arms were chained. I tried to gesticulate, gasping as the iron cut into my already raw and bruised flesh.

  ‘Look, why don’t I simply seduce her and then talk her out of the whole venture? It won’t be easy if she is stubborn, but you may rest assured that I know how to handle any woman and win her round. There’s really no need for either of us to set foot on board any ship. What with the cold and the rotten food – I wouldn’t be able to function at my best. I don’t travel well. It’s impossible to seduce a woman if you are constantly vomiting with seasickness. I assure you I work much better on dry land.’

  The younger of the two priests swallowed hard as if the mere mention of the word seasickness was enough to make him want to retch.

  The older priest’s lip twitched in a faint smile. ‘Come now, Cruz, an experienced seaman such as you surely does not fear such a journey? You have weathered storms at sea before many times, have you not, when you voyaged all the way to the island of Goa, as you so vividly described to Dona Lúcia? You don’t mean to tell me that was a lie.’

  ‘You know it was.’

  ‘Lies have a way of becoming truth, as you are about to discover, Cruz.’

  He waved his hand about the dungeon. ‘Of course, you could always choose to stay here. I promise you, as winter approaches it will become just as wet and cold in this tower as on board a ship, more so in fact, for at least at sea you will have fires to warm you and blankets to sleep beneath. And all the while you hang here in your chains, drenched and frozen, night and day, you will be dreading that really bad storm. Do you see that?’ He pointed to a stain on the pillar opposite, high above my head. ‘I believe that is the height waves surged to last winter in a gale.’

  My throat, which was dry before, was now so tight that I feared I was going to choke.

  ‘But this girl, you said an accident. What did you mean? You’re surely not suggesting a fatal accident?’

  The elder priest raised his eyebrows as if I was a particularly dull-witted pupil who had, at last, with much prompting, managed to stumble upon the correct answer.

  ‘But … but you’re priests, you can’t ask me to kill someone.’

  It was the younger priest’s turn to smile, but there was no humour in it. ‘Have you at last found a conscience?’

  ‘I may have parted some fools and their money, but only rich ones who could well afford to lose the trifle I took. I’ve never killed anyone, much less a woman. I admit I don’t attend Mass as often as my mother would like, but the last time I was there I was sure that the priest mentioned something about murder being a mortal sin, or was I dreaming through that sermon too?’

  ‘If you were to kill a Christian man or woman, it would indeed be a mortal sin,’ the young man agreed. ‘But this girl is no Christian. She is a Marrano, a Jew, a heretic. And Christ rejoices over the death of a heretic. Whoever cleanses Portugal of such an evil abomination is blessed in the sight of God and the Holy Church.’

  ‘Then let the Holy Church do it,’ I retorted. ‘Hand her over to the Inquisition. I won’t commit murder for anyone. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in jail than kill a girl who’s never done me any harm. It may be hard for you to believe, but I do have some principles and I draw the line at murder, especially the murder of a woman.’

  I hoped I sounded a lot braver than I felt, but just at that moment I was so outraged by what they were proposing, I couldn’t even think about the consequences.

  The elder of the two Jesuits looked inquiringly at whoever was standing in the shadows behind me. Then, with a slight nod, he strode back across to the stone steps with only the whisper of his robe to betray his movement. The younger priest did not move, but continued to watch me in silence, like a hound pointing at the quarry awaiting the arrival of the huntsman.

  A few minutes later I heard the sound of two pairs of footsteps lumbering down the stairs and crossing the stone floor towards me. My stomach tightened. These were no priests. Had he sent for the guards to beat me into doing what they wanted, or worse?

  But when the guards came into sight they were carrying a long wrapped bundle between them which they dropped with a dull, heavy thud on to the stone floor. The older Jesuit returned behind them and, with a wave of his hand, dismissed the guards, waiting until they had retreated back up the stairs before continuing.

  ‘Cruz, understand that I am not a gullible old woman or a foolish young one. I cannot be seduced by your pretty tongue. I have been very well trained in rooting out lies. I can look into any man’s eyes and read the truth there. But in your case, I don’t have to. The proof is here. Yet another crime to add to your ever-lengthening list – the crime of murder.’

  I stared at him. ‘I haven’t … I’ll admit to the other things, but of murder I am innocent. I swear by all the saints in heaven. I have never killed anyone.’

  The Jesuit’s voice became even more measured; I could feel he was taking pleasure in this. This was a man who prided himself on using words, not violence, to eviscerate his victims.

  ‘How easily one forgets one’s sins. Though I am surprised you have forgotten this particular sin so rapidly, Cruz. After all, it was committed less than a month ago. Silvia, I think you called her. Your method was not very subtle, I admit. There are many men who possess a far greater skill in making a murder look like a natural death such that not even the most suspicious person would think to question it. But then at sea or in that benighted country to the North, who needs subtlety? What is required is certainty, and I am certain, Cruz, you are the man we need.’

  ‘No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t kill Silvia. That idiot Filipe saw a drowned corpse and mistakenly thought it was her, but I’m telling you it wasn’t Silvia, because she isn’t dead. She’s still alive. I never saw that woman before in my life and I certainly didn’t kill her, any more than I killed Silvia.’

  ‘But how can you swear you don’t know this woman, Cruz? I haven’t shown her to you yet.’

  He gestured towards the younger Jesuit who, clamping a hand over his mouth and nose, knelt down and gingerly began to unpeel the cloth that covered the body.

  ‘No, no,’ I screamed. ‘Don’t unwrap it, I beg you. I’ve seen it once before. I
can’t stand it … I tell you it isn’t Silvia. I swear I have no idea who she is.’

  ‘Come now, Cruz,’ the older priest murmured. ‘It is only fair and just that we should show you of what you stand accused. In fact, I think we should leave her with you for as long as you manage to stay alive here, so that you may grieve properly and say prayers for her soul. I would hate to part two such devoted lovers. I think I will ask the guards to chain her corpse to the pillar facing you. You wouldn’t want her to be swept away by the tide, would you? As the weeks pass and you watch her rot before your eyes, you can be comforted by the thought that soon you will look just as she does. And when the waves finally close over your head, you and your beautiful lover will once again be reunited in the cold embrace of death.’

  The younger priest paused in his unwrapping. His eyes were closed and he was swaying and heaving, as if unable to make up his mind whether he was going to faint or vomit. In the end he scrambled madly to his feet and raced across the floor to the archways where he could lean out over the sea, gulping in the fresh air.

  The older Jesuit remained unmoved. ‘We will leave you alone now to gaze upon the face of your lover, but we will return before the next high tide to ask for your decision. Perhaps by then you will have realized just how much you might enjoy the benefits of a healthy sea voyage.’

  He ripped the cloth from the corpse lying at my feet. I screwed my eyes shut, but as I stood there helpless, chained to the pillar, nothing, but nothing, could shield me from the stench of the rotting, maggot-filled corpse rolling up towards me.

  Chapter Six

  Henry II of England cast his falcon at a heron. The heron seemed to be on the point of escaping the falcon, when Henry swore aloud, ‘By God’s gorge, that heron shall not escape, even if God Himself wills it.’

  No sooner were these words uttered than the heron rounded upon the falcon and, as if by a miracle, struck the falcon’s head with its beak, killing the bird instantly. Thereupon the heron cast the dead falcon at the feet of his master King Henry, to prove to all those who witnessed it that God’s will must always prevail even above that of a king, though it turns the natural order upside down, and causes the prey to become the hunter.

  Belém Isabela

  Eyas – a young hawk taken from its nest in the wild before it can fly and reared in captivity.

  ‘You’ll all sleep here,’ the ship’s master said gruffly. We were standing in a low compartment beneath the forecastle in the bow of the ship. Two narrow openings in the wooden walls on either side showed tiny glimpses of water and of the quayside. The sun blazed down through the hatch above our heads, illuminating a space that contained little except for a line of small wooden chests and bulkheads hung with wooden and metal tools and coils of rope as thick as my arm. I glanced up at the square of blue sky above us and wondered how dark it would be in here if the hatch was shut. I swallowed the lump that rose up in my throat as I thought of my father sitting there in the damp, stinking darkness of that dungeon, unable to stand or even lie down. How long could a man live like that before sickness took hold of his body, or despair seized his mind?

  The master continued, ‘There’s a chest apiece to stow your belongings in, and see that your bedding is rolled and hung on the sides at first light. Seamen need to get to their tackle and they don’t want to be falling over your blankets, especially not in rough seas.’

  A plump, middle-aged woman squawked in a mixture of alarm and disgust as she surveyed the bare boards, on which white lines marked out the sleeping space allotted for each passenger. ‘But where are my husband and I to sleep? My husband is a wealthy and distinguished silk merchant, you know.’

  ‘I told you,’ the master said wearily. ‘All passengers sleep here.’ He glanced at me and then back to her, for we were the only women in the party of eight passengers. ‘Some ladies like to hang a blanket in the corner to screen themselves when they’re dressing.’

  ‘A blanket!’ the woman echoed, her voice shrill with disbelief. ‘When we were on the pilgrimage last year the better class of passenger all had private cabins with locks on the doors and beds suspended on chains from the ceiling. The cabins were hardly bigger than my linen press at home, and the beds were far too hard and small, but they were at least proper beds. And I put up with all that discomfort and inconvenience without a single word of complaint, isn’t that so, husband? For one expects to suffer on a pilgrimage. But this … this dog kennel isn’t even fit for slaves to sleep in.’

  ‘This, Senhora, is a cargo ship, not a pleasure trip,’ the master said tersely. ‘But my men would be glad to swap places with you if you don’t fancy sleeping here. Perhaps you’d rather bed down with them in the hold among the grain and spices.’

  ‘Now see here,’ the small, stout merchant said, indignantly puffing out his chest. ‘I won’t have you talking that way to my wife.’

  ‘Then you’d best disembark now while you still have a chance, for as master on this ship I talk to passengers and crew alike any way I please. All that matters to me is getting this ship safe to Iceland and back again and I’ll not let any passenger endanger that.’

  ‘Iceland?’ the merchant said sharply. ‘What business has a cargo ship to do with Iceland? You cannot trade there. They’ll not permit traffic with any Portuguese merchants, not even with the English now. I’m reliably informed that any halfway decent harbours on that island that are able to accommodate a ship have been leased by the German merchants, mostly from Hamburg, and what remain are in Danish hands. I can assure you I have investigated the matter very thoroughly, for if trade were possible, I myself would be taking my business to that island.’

  The master gave a twisted smile, displaying a mouthful of crooked, yellow teeth. ‘And who says we’re going to land any goods? There’s no law against landing people, and if a few barrels should happen to fall over the side whilst we’re helping the passengers off …’ He winked. ‘My lads are sharp enough at sea, but put them anywhere near land and they’re as clumsy as ducks on ice.’

  The merchant’s wife positively trembled with outrage, her double chin wobbling like a chicken’s wattle. ‘The agent gave us to understand this was a lawful voyage. My husband is a respectable merchant. He has a reputation to uphold and I will not have his name linked to any nefarious dealings. I have no intention of sailing aboard a … a … pirate ship.’

  ‘Pirates seize goods, Senhora, they don’t land them, as you’ll soon find out if we have the misfortune to encounter any. Besides, you’re bound for England, what do you care where we go after that?’ The master glared around at the rest of us.

  ‘Now mark me well. You’ll get two hot meals a day. When you hear the trumpet sound, make haste to the table and eat. When it sounds again, finished or not, you’ve to rise and make way for the captain and his officers. So you’d best eat quick, for the captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting. If you want more food or drink, you’ll have to use your own provisions, so I suggest you stock up well at any inhabited port we call at, for it is getting late in the season now, and we will more than likely run into the first of the autumn gales as we sail. And if we’re forced to spend more weeks at sea than we reckoned on, then be sure of one thing, the captain will not allow his men’s rations of food or water to be shared with passengers, for if the sailors become too weak to work, then we’ll all perish.’

  At these words the matron swayed alarmingly as if she was about to swoon, and some of the other passengers looked equally frightened. I also felt an icy shiver. It was not fear of running out of food but of time that frightened me. I could not afford to be delayed at sea, for with every day that passed the shadow of my father’s death crept closer.

  With final instructions not to distract the sailors when they were working, not to touch any rope, chain, pulley or windlass, in fact not to do anything at all except eat, sleep and stay out of the seamen’s way, the master grunted that we’d best get what luggage we had brought with us safely stored aboard, for we would
be sailing with the next tide.

  As soon as he had climbed the steps and disappeared back up through the hatch to the deck, the merchant’s wife immediately claimed a strip in the far back corner, which she deemed to be the most sheltered from draughts, and ordered her husband to stow the towering stack of her bundles and boxes into what seemed by comparison to be a pathetically inadequate ship’s chest.

  One of the male passengers bent towards me and whispered, ‘She won’t find that spot so cosy when all of the passengers are vomiting and gasping for air. Take my advice and sleep near one of the anchor holes. It’ll be cold, but the air will be fresher.’

  I was about to do as he suggested when the merchant’s wife seized me by the arm. ‘No, no, my dear, you must sleep next to me.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Sailors are little better than savages. The sight of a woman after weeks at sea drives them mad with lust. We must place ourselves as far as possible from the hatchway in case one of them should try to creep down in the night. I tell you, I’ll not be able to shut my eyes all night for fear that they might try to molest me. I begged my husband to allow me to bring my tiring maid, but he refused to pay her passage. Says it will be cheaper to hire new servants when we arrive. But how he expects me to manage without servants on the voyage, I’m sure I don’t know.’ She glared balefully at her husband who was anxiously examining some cargo tallies, oblivious to his wife’s distress.

  The young man who had spoken to me before squeezed past me again. ‘Careful you don’t find yourself pressed into service as her slave.’ He smiled at me and his hand brushed mine so lightly that I could not be sure if he intended it or not.

  A trumpet sounded, and the matron looked up eagerly. ‘Food? Make haste, husband.’

  She waded through the chaos of bundles and bedding towards the steps that led up through the hatch, elbowing the other passengers aside in her haste to be first to set her foot upon them. But when we followed her up the creaking steps, we found that the trumpet blast had not been sounded to summon us to a meal.