“Indeed,” Señor de Ovando responded, and Ana hoped that he assumed that she was in agreement with him but that, out of respect for Sebastián, she was refraining from criticizing her brother to others. A man such as he would admire such loyalty.
“Well, I shall certainly see what I can do, though I must warn you that this adds to the difficulty of the situation. Some of my business colleagues are not as open-minded as I, and they are loath simply to hear the names of those who ply His Majesty’s ministers with their reforming schemes.”
Ana bristled inwardly at the use of the term schemes in reference to her brother, though the arbitristas’ ideas were often referred to as such. Ana knew that many of Sebastián’s concepts aimed to help the poorest in the country, and that someone would have to pay for such changes. It followed that those who had more wealth would feel threatened. Still, men such as Señor de Ovando were far from the richest or most powerful in the land. The general economic problems of the country must adversely affect him. The financial factors that had led to repeated devaluations of the currency, and the foreign policies that contributed to the king’s rationalization for confiscating much of the silver from the returning trade fleets, must have been a legitimate grievance of the businessmen of Sevilla. Still, some of those with even a relatively small advantage in society would always prefer to maintain the status quo over risking a change, even though all might ultimately benefit from it.
“There is a great variety of plans put forth by men such as my brother. I trust that a man like you must coldly analyze all of the ramifications of any given proposal. I would hope that you would not find all my brother’s ideas detrimental to you and your fellow businessmen.”
Afraid that she had become too argumentative and that she risked losing the pose she must maintain of a woman in need of help from a gallant caballero, she continued, “But why do I rattle on so? I know so little of such things. I am most deeply in your debt.”
Señor de Ovando bowed indulgently. “For your gracious self, and for the memory of Don Emilio, I will do all in my power.”
Ana smiled, nodded, and escaped before Señor de Ovando could think to ask who was escorting her about the great city. He might have offered her the services of one of his own servants as a suitable escort, while Ana wished to preserve as much anonymity in her search as possible.
Ana supposed that the interview had gone as well as could be expected, yet Juliana’s disappearance consumed her thoughts. She was angry with herself for not having foreseen Señor de Ovando’s question of whether Sebastián was traveling alone. No matter what she said, there were certain pitfalls. In the moments available to her to consider, Ana had reasoned that making inquiries about two people, rather than one, would increase the chances that someone would come forth with some useful information. Though she had asked only that Señor de Ovando make inquiries of his acquaintances, she had felt fairly certain that his honor, and perhaps a sense of curiosity, would persuade him to employ whatever measures were available to him.
Now, however, she questioned whether this had been the wisest course. If Juliana was not with Sebastián, then searching for a man traveling with a daughter and her dueña could delay or inhibit success. More important, if Sebastián were in some sort of danger—and, in light of his strange behavior, this possibility must be considered—then perhaps Ana had done wrong in going to de Ovando at all. Furthermore, perhaps the lack of information that was available on her journey suggested that they were all traveling separately, and this might well support the theory of some danger to Sebastián. For what other reason could there be for her brother to abandon his daughter to the perils of the road, if not to protect her from some greater threat? If such were the case, then she had unwittingly foiled her brother’s plan to protect Juliana, by revealing her niece’s presence in the city.
Yet even as she came to these conclusions, her mind rebelled. With what sinister cause could Señor de Ovando be connected? His only real fault seemed to be his excessive pride in his family. Surely violence could not be awaiting Ana’s loved ones from that quarter. Still, what feeling and suspicion had impelled her to this blind pursuit? She told herself that she had allowed her imagination to run unfettered in search of an explanation for her brother’s and her niece’s disappearance.
Craving a respite from these thoughts, Ana shifted her attention to her surroundings. She was coming upon yet another church, La Iglesia de Santa Catalina. She remembered that Emilio had told her that many of the buildings in this city of the Andalucían region showed the influence of the Moors, who now had not ruled the city for centuries. The Alcázar was, of course, of Moorish and Mudéjar design. Some of the churches had been built on the ruins of mosques, retaining still some features of the former style.
As Ana slowed and stopped in front of Santa Catalina, she thought she could discern such influence here. In spite of her own current quandary, she wondered what happens to a people when another tries to wipe them away. What do they leave behind of their spirits, and what do the newcomers unwittingly take unto themselves? What did today’s Sevillanos have of those who called the city Ishbiliya and the region Al Andalus? Indeed, what did she carry within her of an unknown past?
A movement on the periphery of her vision caused her to turn her head: a young woman, the size and age of Juliana. Of course it was not she. Ridiculous to let herself hope for such an encounter in a city the size of Sevilla. Still, that was precisely the reason she was roaming the streets. The young woman smiled at her. It was an easy smile, and Ana envied her that ease.
Even knowing that her wandering could hardly bear the fruit she so desired, Ana continued on, trying to get a better sense of the city. The houses were more ostentatious than those in Madrid, she realized, and as she looked at those passing her, she noticed that their clothes were also more extravagant. Chastising herself for these frivolous thoughts, Ana continued on the quest she understood was probably hopeless, but imperative.
Frustration as much as physical fatigue had led Ana to return to the house of Señora Nelleda after a futile afternoon of walking the streets of the city. She had quickly succumbed to sleep, but a knock awakened her, and as she opened the door, the servant girl informed her that a Señor de Ovando was in the parlor, wondering if she might be available.
“Please tell Señor de Ovando that I shall be down in a few moments,” Ana replied, as she began to straighten her hair and gown. She told herself that he must have come simply to acquire further details to aid him in his search. Still, as she entered the room to greet him, she could not help but hope that he had already met with success.
“Señor de Ovando, how kind of you to call!”
“Doña Ana, I hope that my appearance has not given you false hope. Though I have begun to put the wheels in motion, I have no news as yet.”
Ana tried to hide her disappointment. “Of course. It is most kind of you to accept this undertaking. May I offer you some refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I do not wish to impose. I merely came to ask if there is anything else I might do to make your stay in Sevilla more comfortable.”
“That is very considerate, Señor de Ovando, but I am quite comfortable, and I do not anticipate that my stay in your city will be of any great duration.”
“I should disabuse you of that notion, señora, for with only the most incredible luck would we find your brother very quickly.”
“Perhaps my prayers will speed the process.”
“I, too, am a man of faith, señora, but in many things God expects us to rely upon our own devices.”
“Nevertheless, I am quite comfortable. Thank you for your concern. You are already performing such a service for me that I will be forever in your debt.”
“I do not know that you will owe me much if I disappoint, señora.”
“I do not believe that we will fail. Besides, even Our Lord demands only that we endeavor, not that we always triumph.”
“I do not like to fail, señora.”
“A quality that I am sure has served you well.”
“There was one other thing, señora: I wondered if you’d heard the latest news from Madrid.”
“Madrid?”
“A Don Lorenzo Pizarro de Robledo was found some days ago very early in the morning, murdered in his own courtyard. Apparently, even the servants saw nothing.”
Ana concealed her recognition of the name from Juliana’s diary. “These are desperate times for many, señor. Surely even here in Sevilla you have such occurrences.”
“You misunderstand me, señora. This was no chance murder by a discovered thief. Nothing was missing or disturbed, and Señor Pizarro was not bludgeoned. One single sword thrust to his heart killed him. One might almost guess it was the work of some wronged gentleman.”
“But a gentleman would surely choose a more public manner in which to answer an insult.”
“I must agree with you. Nevertheless, the speculation is that it is in the salons, and not the alleyways, that the culprit is being sought.” Ana did not respond.
“Señor Pizarro, I believe, like your brother, offered grand solutions to the government for the improvement of the nation. Were they by any chance associates?”
“They may have known each other. My brother is acquainted with many important men in the capital, at court, and elsewhere. Naturally, I am not overly familiar with these aspects of my brother’s life, but I do not recall that he mentioned a gentleman by that name.”
“Of course. As is Sevilla, Madrid is a very large place, and there are hundreds of men who are involved with the workings of His Majesty’s government. Well, I will take no more of your time. I hope that when next we meet, I will be the bearer of happier tidings.”
“I shall pray for that. Thank you for your visit, Señor de Ovando.”
As she climbed the stairs back to her room, Ana’s thoughts raced. Had Señor de Ovando believed that she did not know of Pizarro? She wasn’t even certain why she had denied any connection. What difference could it make to Señor de Ovando whether Sebastián had known Pizarro? Did he suspect that there was some sinister explanation for Sebastián’s disappearance?
Ana could hardly credit that the murder and her brother’s flight could be related. Still, Sebastián and the dead man had been allies in many political maneuverings. As the country’s problems worsened, those with influence had become ever less willing to compromise, for fear of losing their dwindling assets. Could someone have finally decided that rivals must be killed? Had the weapons of financial ruin or ostracism now become too weak, accusation and imprisonment too slow a way to rid oneself of one’s enemies?
Late that night, in the last pages of Juliana’s diary, Ana found her answer.
24
Juliana
10 February
I am wretched, defiled by that false friend of my father’s, Don Lorenzo! Last night, I heard a noise outside my window, and as I approached the iron grill to peer outside, the balcony door gave way. I was seized by the arm, a hand placed over my mouth. Don Lorenzo told me that I would not be hurt if I would but keep still. Although I could not imagine what honorable intention he could have to come upon me thus in my own room, in my innocence neither did I suspect his true purpose. I nodded that I would keep still, and he slowly released me. At first, he tried to speak to me with words of love, and I was both amazed and frightened that he should find this manner to proclaim it. But his real desires soon became evident. What he wished was my surrender, and when I indignantly refused, he grabbed me all the more tightly and covered my mouth so that I could barely breathe. Although I struggled all I could, his brute force overcame my resistance. After he had finished his vile act, he departed my room the same way he had come and left me with my pain.
I must have fainted into sleep until this morning, when Silvia came into my room. At once my misery was evident to her, and as I haltingly told her of its cause, her outrage turned to despair. Her words repeat endlessly in my thoughts.
“You must keep this quiet” was her short response when I had finished my laments.
“While I do not wish to have my situation made public, neither will I tolerate the villain being left unpunished. My father must avenge that which I have lost!”
“The loss of your honor could be a great danger to you,” she said.
“Danger! What can be worse than that which I have this night endured? I am faultless! I have been violated, and I demand vengeance! How can you counsel secrecy? When my father knows—”
“It is precisely that your father must not know!” She looked at me with terror in her eyes and continued. “You know that I love you as a daughter, and I tell you this in the fullness of my love.”
“A curse on love that would have me live thus, feeding my shame and my dishonor! I demand that you go and tell my father. He will heal his honor and my own!”
“Listen to me, my child. I have known your father for far longer than you have trodden this earth. If he learns of this, he will see you as a symbol of his dishonor. To him, the satisfaction to be extracted will be his, and he will destroy as he sees fit.”
“And in this will lie the restoration of my honor.”
“Do you not understand that the only remedy can lie in marriage or in death? This will avenge his honor, but what of you? Is this the price you wish to pay for one night’s unhappiness? Be careful that it is not you who answers for another’s sin.”
“I will listen to this no more! I demand that you tell my father! If you do not, I will go myself!”
“No! I will do as you command,” she said, and she gave me a look of inconsolable sorrow, as from an older grief. “Grant me only this, I beg of you: let me delay telling your father until tonight. This will give us both time to further think this through.”
I did not know how pondering my plight could change its facts, but I conceded to Silvia’s plea.
Soon I must meet Tía Ana for Mass, and I will also seek the confessional, to see if there is any penance that can cleanse this stain.
10 February (evening)
I do not know why I did not wish to confide in Tía Ana, but that Silvia had convinced me to hide my sorry state from her. I have sadly continued my deception, writing to my tía not to return to my home to check on me.
Tomorrow Silvia will inform my father, but now her warning plays as a constant refrain in my mind. I sent Silvia to my father, that he might avenge my honor. Only now, in the stillness of my room, do I begin to wonder what form that vengeance will take. Silvia said that to remedy the violation, my father would demand that Don Lorenzo marry me. I knew this to be true, and yet the full horror of it strikes me only now. My satisfaction must come from submitting myself to the man who saw me as a thing to defile and abuse. How can this alleviate my grief? My lord and husband will be he who has so brutally destroyed my maidenhood. My father would reward him with my hand. Gone are any hopes I might have had that Antonio will one day be my husband.
Despair overpowers me, and I pray to the Virgin Mary to help me in my time of need and torment.
11 February
I write these final words in haste as Silvia prepares for our flight. She came to my room a short while ago.
“Ay, Juliana, my child, all is lost! We must flee, for I do not wish to live to see you die!”
“What has happened?” I asked, confused and frightened by her words.
“Early this morning, I went to see your father. I have learned that Don Sebastián then went to see Don Lorenzo and demand that he marry you, but Don Lorenzo refused—”
“Refused? But why?”
Ignoring my question, Silvia continued. “He refused, and your father became enraged. Drawing his sword, he ran Don Lorenzo through, then ran off, to we know not where.”
“What? How do you know this?”
“My nephew, Pablo, is servant to Don Lorenzo, and he has just come to relate the news to me. He was the only witness, and I told him to tell no one and to leave the city. Oh, my J
uliana, you must run away!”
“Why? I don’t understand. What my father has done, he has done for me. I will not abandon him now that he needs me.”
“No, my child. Your father’s anger is not spent. Pablo heard Don Sebastián say that one of two of the stains to his dishonor has been destroyed. He will cleanse the other, though it be to shed his life’s blood. Your father means to kill you!”
“No! You must be wrong. My father loves me! Why would he punish me in my innocence?”
“Because his honor is above all other things to him. I had hoped that the years had healed this in him, but they have not. I have before known him to be so unjust.”
I do not know what these last words meant, but even as I protested, I knew that she was right. I knew that now he would be blinded to a daughter’s love and would sacrifice all for his rapacious honor.
I will place this book in its hiding place. Perhaps some girl in future times will come across it and learn from my sorrows.
NEW WORLD
25
RACHEL
St. Louis, Missouri, 1992
I pushed through the stolen sleep, my mind registering the blinking light as an ambulance. I leaped to help, to inform the drivers, but I fell onto a cold, hard floor. My legs prickled, and my arms were numb. The lights were from the monitors, tracking my mother’s life. They droned on. No change for six days.
I shuffled back toward the straight chair and dropped into it. In my dream, my mother held my hand. She was bent low, her hand cupped close to my ear as though to tell me a secret, but I didn’t feel her breath tickling me. “We have to let Daddy rest now. Everything will be all right. Mama’s here.”
I had never called my mother Mama, and she had never referred to herself that way. I called her Mom, or even Helen. I shifted in the chair. The door squeaked, and my eyes rebelled at the light.
The Lines Between Us Page 11