Pedro sighed and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. “All right. How did he do it?”
“I’ll show you.” Lucas bolted up and dashed over to the tower. Pedro followed a few steps behind, stumbling, yawning, and trying to wake up.
They reached the tower, and Lucas pointed up to the roof.
“My first theory is a rope. The killer must have taken a rope up to the tower with him, or he found it once he got up there. I think the killer expected to have more time to get away. His plan must have been to kill Esteban, pull up the ladder, and then lower himself down with his own rope to make it harder for people to get to the body before they discovered it. This would give him plenty of time to get away,” Lucas said.
Pedro looked up to the roof. “A rope…maybe…”
“But you encountered him under the trees on the other side,” Lucas said. “Which means he came out…”
Lucas ran off to the other side of the tower just under the observation port. Pedro did his best to keep up.
“On this side,” Lucas finished. “It’s a lot harder to get down over here. The killer must have been interrupted. I think someone came to the tower before he was ready. It’s why he pulled the ladder up. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him. So the only way down would have been a rope tied to something on the roof so he could scale down this side and end up down here where he met you that night.”
Pedro looked up to the roof and down to the trees a few steps away.
“So I just need to know if you found a rope dangling on this side of the tower on the night of Esteban’s death.”
Pedro shook his head.
“That’s fine…that’s fine. Then he must have taken the rope with him. Is there any kind of a pulley or hoist system up there where the killer could have wrapped a rope around, lowered himself down, then taken the rope with him somehow?”
“There’s nothing up there that complicated,” Pedro said. “It’s just bare stone. Sorry.”
“So my other theory must be correct,” Lucas said.
“What’s your other theory?” Pedro asked, his voice growing serious.
“If there is no way he could have gotten out…then it means he is still in there.”
Pedro chuckled. “You think the killer is still up there? Where would he hide? That room is maybe two paces wide. Or does your theory involve him being a magical wizard who has powers to make himself invisible?”
Lucas was annoyed at how amusing Pedro found this.
“If he’s not hiding up there, he must be down here,” Lucas said, pointing to the base of the tower. “There’s a storage room inside, isn’t there?”
Pedro grinned. “It’s locked, I told you.”
“Could someone break in, though?”
“Not without Salinas’s key.”
It was Lucas’s turn to smile. “Then it all makes sense. If the killer somehow found a way into that room, he could hide out until the opportunity presented itself to get out. You said yourself there is food and water down there to last him months. He could still be in there right now.”
Pedro shook his head. “You woke me up for this? I’m going back to sleep.”
“Wait, Señor Sanchez, sir, please. I just need to confirm it. If I’m wrong, that’s fine. But I need to know.”
“What are you asking me to do, joven?”
“We need to get a look inside that room. If the killer was in there and left, then we’ll see evidence of it. Provisions that were open and eaten, that sort of thing. Or if he’s still in there, then someone like you can arrest him. Either way, we have to see.”
Pedro sighed. “This is madness.”
Lucas suspected it might be. But if he was right, perhaps Armada could overlook his shortcomings when it came to ladders and heights. But if he was wrong, he would look foolish, and he couldn’t risk Armada being there for that. He had to know one way or the other before the old man found out what he was up to.
Pedro shouted up to the tower a few times and asked for Salinas to climb down to speak to him. Salinas was soon standing in front of Pedro and Lucas, looking annoyed.
“No,” Salinas said. “I don’t open that door for anyone. And there is no way anyone could have gotten in there without my key.”
Salinas grabbed his waist to show a small iron key on a metal keyring hooked through a hole in his trousers.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense, sir. What if the killer found a way past the lock? We just need to take a quick look inside, that’s all. Just a look. It will answer all our questions.”
“You mean your questions,” Salinas said. “And you aren’t the constable, are you? I don’t have time for childish games. I need to get back to my shift.”
“But, sir…” Lucas said.
It was obvious Salinas was not going to discuss the matter any further, and he watched as Salinas climbed back up the ladder.
“Well, you gave it a good try, joven,” Pedro said. He turned towards the camp.
“We’ll have to steal it.”
Pedro stopped. “What?”
“The key, sir. We have to steal the key to the storage room in the tower. There’s no other way.”
“Now, come on, boy. I’ve helped you all I can. I’m not going to get in trouble like that with my captain. I can’t risk my post here. I need these wages. They’re all I have,” Pedro said.
“I know, sir. And I wouldn’t ask it if it wasn’t important. You said Esteban Marañón was the baby brother of your company. Would you not do this if it meant finding your real brother’s killer?”
It was a move Lucas had learned from watching Armada. Appeal to the suspect’s strongest bonds, those people they value more than anything in their life, and you’ll always get them to consider your point of view. They may not like it or do what you want, but it gave you a fighting chance.
Pedro sighed.
“I should have known you were going to be trouble, joven.”
Chapter Eighteen
November 1562
Despite how bleak it seemed at first, Mencía was starting to let herself hope again. It had been a few weeks since Salvador, the quartermaster, had joined the Aguilar household. Mencía had felt trapped in the back bedroom and wondered if it was any worse than being trapped in a real prison or a loveless marriage. She could always leave…but to go where? And how long would she last, wandering around in the countryside while pregnant?
But it meant she had to deal with Salvador’s growing intrigue about the Aguilars’ mystery daughter whom he had yet to lay eyes on. He’d already made numerous attempts to open the door, stopped by her foot planted at the bottom. He would call to her through the door and attempt to draw her out with compliments about how beautiful she must be and badly remembered soliloquys he’d used on other women he’d met at various ports over the years. All looked hopeless for a few days.
That is, until Ana came up with a brilliant idea. She took Salvador aside one night after Hector had gone to sleep and whispered in his ear, as if letting him in on a dark family secret. She spun a masterful tale about how Mencía had fallen so deeply in love with a man she had lost her mind and at one point attempted to claw his eyes out. That’s why they kept her locked in the back bedroom. It’s why not even Hector went back there to see her anymore. Ana had even given Mencía a new name. She was now their daughter, Baltasara.
After that, Salvador seemed less interested in Mencía, and the household fell into a routine. Salvador and Hector were up by sunrise, and after a bit of breakfast, they headed off to the beach to continue with the salvage operation. They wouldn’t return until sunset, which gave Ana and Mencía much of the day to do all the washing and cooking. Mencía always made sure to be back in the bedroom by late afternoon in case the men came back early. If she could stay out of sight for another week or two, just until the rescue fleet came to take Salvador and the rest of the sailors in town home, she would be free.
Mencía thought a lot about her father during this time. She had deci
ded to write to him once she and her baby were somewhere far away where he could never find her. He deserved to know she was alive and why she left him. But he would never lay eyes on her again. Not if she could help it.
Then Mencía would write another letter. This time to Anton. He, too, deserved to know she was alive and that he was about to become a father. She would promise to return to him, no matter what it took. They would have to leave his family’s finca behind and start over from nothing. But at least they would be a family, and her heart sang at the thought of it.
In the meantime, Mencía was determined to learn all she could from Ana about how to run a household. She learned about how to use a lavadero to wash clothes, how to cook a basic broth and bake bread, and how to find the many kinds of medicinal herbs that could be collected from the countryside and used to treat a variety of maladies.
Ana was so patient with her and never got annoyed with Mencía’s lack of skill. There were times when Mencía was overwhelmed, especially when it came to sewing and she pricked her finger until it bled. Ana never got frustrated with her. She just wrapped Mencía’s injured finger in a bit of cloth until the bleeding stopped, then urged Mencía to try it again.
Through it all, Mencía’s bulge continued to grow. The baby inside her had begun to kick and squirm around now, a sign that it was getting bigger and stronger and would soon be ready for the world. Mencía felt it was her job to make sure that when the baby came, it was born into a world where it would be free.
It was windy that night, and the great gusts that blew down the road brought with them a chill that would remain until the early morning hours burned it away. Ana had said the winds were what brought the change in season for the whole coast. In this case, tonight they had come to blow away the last of the summer heat and replace it with the cold of the winter that would soon be upon them.
Outside in the dying sunlight, Mencía saw the wind throwing up swirls of dust, rattling shutters, and blowing under doors. Ana had done her best to secure everything after Hector and Salvador had returned, who were both now hunched over their soups in front of the fire, covered in grime and smelling of sea salt.
The worst of their job was over. Most of the bodies had been recovered from the bay and identified as best as was possible. They were now lined up on the beach, with most covered in bits of cloth cut from the many sails that washed up on shore.
But the cloth could do little to hide the stench of those rotting bodies underneath that had now seeped into every corner of the pueblo. Many in town were happy that the winds had come tonight, for they brought welcome relief.
Mencía was in the back bedroom with the door shut, working on a bit of sewing to candlelight. She was attempting to finish a wool blanket for her baby, as Ana had pointed out the baby would probably be born just as the worst of the winter’s cold hit. Mencía would need to be ready with plenty of blankets to keep it warm.
Ana had gone out to the bakery for a bit of bread for supper, leaving Hector and Salvador to eat their soup by the fire. Despite the wind rattling her shutters, Mencía could hear the men outside as they slurped their soup, saying little. She felt for them, as the horrors they’d had to contend with over the weeks would be difficult for anyone. Especially as Salvador had complained about knowing personally so many of the men he helped to pull out of the water.
Mencía had been sewing for the better part of an hour when she stopped. Something was wrong, although it took her a moment to figure out what.
There was a sudden pressure in her abdomen that made her want to cry out. Instead, Mencía tried to take long, steady breaths like Ana had shown her. Ana had warned her this might happen, but Mencía hadn’t been ready for the pain.
“Sometimes it feels like you’re about to have the baby right there, when it’s just a bit of wind,” Ana had said.
The pressure returned, more forceful this time. Mencía couldn’t stop herself from crying out. How she wished Ana were there to give the men an excuse not to try and help.
She listened through her door, but the men outside had remained silent.
The pressure abated for a moment, then returned and radiated through her entire lower body. She felt the baby twitch, which made it worse.
Mencía cried out louder this time, hoping to release a bit of the pressure.
“Are you all right in there?” she heard Hector call.
“Yes…fine,” Mencía said, praying nothing would happen until Ana got back.
But the pain would not wait. It fell away and then returned again, like a wave crashing against the rocks.
She heard both men get to their feet and race to her room. Mencía heaved herself up and put a hand against the door to prevent them from coming in. But the pain of standing made her double over and struggle to stay on her feet.
“Ter…Baltasara…are you sure you’re all right?” Hector said.
“Yes, I’m fine. I just need…a…”
Mencía had to keep breathing. The pain was coming in little waves now, and she worried for her baby, which was squirming around. It wasn’t comfortable for either of them for her to remain standing, but Mencía had to stay on her feet. She couldn’t let the men come in and see…
Mencía cried out again.
“We have to help her,” Salvador said through the door. “Mad or not.”
“Let’s just wait until Ana gets back,” Hector said.
Mencía prayed for Salvador to be convinced by this. Why did this pain have to happen now? Things were going so well. She was almost free. Why did God insist on making this so hard?
“She could be dead by the time Ana gets back. She’s your daughter. Don’t you want to help her?” Salvador said.
“I’m all right. I’m all right.” Mencía said, trying not to sound in pain. But it was impossible. It had become so intense that Mencía was becoming dizzy, and she fell against the wall, putting her arms around her middle to protect it.
Salvador forced open the door, and he and Hector kneeled next to her. Mencía felt both men lift her and place her on the bed.
“What’s happening?” Hector asked her with a fearful look.
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Mencía said. She had to keep breathing. It was the only way to keep the dizziness away.
Both men stood by, waiting to see if anything else was required of them.
And just as quickly as it had come, the pain began to pass. Mencía felt her baby shift about and give a kick, but the sense of alarm she’d felt eased.
Her relief was short lived. Salvador had had ample time to study her face, and he now knelt, staring at her with incredulity.
“Mencía…” Salvador whispered. “Mencía Marañón.”
Mencía tried in vain to look away, to hide her face in the darkness. “No. You are mistaken.”
“What are you doing here?” Salvador said. He turned to Hector. “Do you know who this is? This is Mencía Marañón. Her father is Alonso de Marañón, a noble and a very important man.”
Salvador smiled at Mencía as if it were a moment to celebrate. “He’s been so worried about you. Everybody thought he was crazy for thinking you were still alive. But he was right. By God, he was right!”
Salvador hugged Mencía, who stared back at Hector. It was all unravelling. Mencía felt a complete fool. She had overreacted to a bit of pain and had ruined everything.
“He’ll be so happy to know you’re alive!” Salvador leapt to his feet.
“Wait!” Mencía said and tried to get up. The pain hadn’t yet gone, making it difficult to jump to her feet.
“Mencía, stay in bed,” Hector said as he blocked her way.
Mencía pushed Hector aside and got up, trying to chase Salvador who was already making for the front door.
“Salvador!” she called out, stopping Salvador as he pushed the cloth aside to go out to the road.
“Yes, you’re right, Salvador. I’m Mencía. And I can’t tell you why, but I need you to not tell my father I’m here.�
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“Why? He loves you. It will make him so happy.”
“I know,” Mencía said. She struggled to find an excuse to stop him, but her mind was flustered. She didn’t have the time to explain everything. “But you can’t. You just can’t.”
“I have to, Señora Marañón. I have a duty to your father. He is still my commanding officer.”
“And I bet there is a reward for finding me as well.”
“Of course! A hundred ducats to the man who finds you or your body. No sailor could pass that up.”
“I’ll give you two hundred,” Mencía said. “You just have to promise not to say anything.”
“Two hundred ducats? You don’t have two hundred ducats.”
“I can get it,” Mencía said. “Somehow I’ll get it. Just please don’t say anything.”
She could see Salvador was tempted. Mencía moved closer to him and put her hand on his arm.
Salvador removed her hand. “Two hundred ducats won’t mean much if your father hangs me for not telling him his daughter was here. No, I have to go.”
“No. Wait. Just wait,” Mencía said, grabbing Salvador’s arm.
“Let go of me.”
“You can’t. Just give me a little more time. A few days, that’s all. I need to think…”
“And let Alonso suffer like that? That’s cruel. I’m telling him tonight.”
“Salvador, wait!” Mencía said. She clutched his arm harder, digging her nails in.
“Mencía, let go!”
“Mencía, calm yourself! It’s over. Let him go,” Hector said.
Hector tried to put his arm around Mencía’s to pull it away, but Mencía waved him off. It was all crashing down around her. She did not work this hard and sacrifice this much to have a man like Salvador ruin it all because of his sense of honour. It was her father’s sense of honour that had almost imprisoned her, and now it was this man who was about to do it again. What was it with men and her honour? Why couldn’t they let her fend for it herself?
“Don’t, Salvador. I beseech you. Don’t!” Mencía said as panic began to set in. She couldn’t give up now. Not after getting so close.
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