Paradise & More (Torres Family Saga) (24 page)

      
“No, I am the admiral's brother, Bartolome Colon, at your service. Sir Marshal,” he answered with sarcasm. “Will you act the part of a gentleman or have you resided among the savages too long?”

      
Now it was Magdalena's turn to step between the two men, bristling at each other like two mastiffs. “Please, if I may speak with Diego alone for a moment,” she said, placing her hand on Bartolome's arm.

      
“I have nothing to say to you, Magdalena. What was between us in Seville is finished now. You, of all people, should understand why,” he said with cold finality.

      
Her shock at his appearance and her fear about confronting him with his father's wishes dimmed as she stared into his icy eyes. He had used her and deserted her as if she were some Taino serving wench! “I understand that you took my honor in Seville and then left me.”

      
“My lady, you gave freely what I took,” he replied contemptuously.

      
She fought the urge to fly at him with her nails and instead said quietly, “Benjamin pledged you, Aaron.”

      
The use of his given name caused his eyes to narrow. “My father was deceived by you, but not so far as to betroth us.”

      
“He gave me this as a sign for you,” Magdalena said, her anger evaporating into bitter hurt at his heartless rejection. She pulled the locket from her neck and opened it, then extracted the pomander and revealed its precious contents.

      
“How did you acquire that?” he asked with a strangled gasp, grabbing the ring from her hand.

      
“Then you do not deny it is your father's signature ring?” Bartolome said gravely.

      
Aaron looked at the ring in his palm. Its brilliant sapphire glowed like blue fire, the color of Torres eyes. “This is my father's ring,” he said quietly, “but there are many ways she could have come to possess it.” He slid it on his finger, then looked thoughtfully at the small pale woman before him. “Her father, Bernardo Valdés, was responsible for murdering my family. He turned them over to the Inquisition—for his share of Torres wealth. When I went home last year everyone was dead and all our property confiscated. She most like pilfered the ring from her father!”

      
Magdalena could hold back no longer. She slapped him as tears suddenly overflowed her eyes. “That is a monstrous lie! Benjamin gave me this ring the day after I met you at your home.” She hesitated as he stood stone still, his hands clenched menacingly at his sides. Her cheeks flamed as she whispered, “He found my combs by your bed after you departed for Palos. He was going to force you to wed me before you sailed, but I begged him not to.”

      
One golden eyebrow raised cynically. “And what prompted your change of heart after all this time has passed? Why is it you now cross the very ocean to wed me? Do you carry a Trastamara bastard in your belly and need a gullible father for it? I warrant King Fernando is fair out of archbishoprics with which to vest his bastards.”

      
“You insult not only this lady but his majesty as well. You have lived too long with those savages and grow as primitive as they,” Diego Colon said indignantly, but it was his elder brother who menaced Aaron by approaching him with hand on sword hilt.

      
“You will apologize to the Lady Magdalena, Don Diego, or I will slit your gullet, no matter if you did save Cristobal's life,” Bartolome said in a low deadly voice.

      
Looking at Bartolome's hard face, he realized the man was as taken in by Magdalena as his father had been.
What is it about the wench?
He turned to her with a mock gallant gesture, bowing as he said, “My apologies, Dona Magdalena, I will not again insult you, but neither will I wed you…ever.” He turned to Bartolome and said, “Do your worst. I am not pledged to the woman and I will not be coerced into a marriage.”

      
“And I will not force you,” Magdalena said furiously, having regained her composure. The blatant cruelty of his words had left her numb for a moment. “Farewell, Diego Torres. I wish you well with your Indian woman.”

      
With the blood pounding in his ears, Aaron walked stiffly and silently toward the door.

      
“One moment,” Bartolome said. “The ring is the lady's betrothal pledge. If you will not honor the pledge, you will not keep the ring.” When Aaron turned, Bartolome's drawn sword was at his throat. “Give the lady her ring or by the Blessed Mother, you will not depart Ysabel alive.”

      
Muttering an oath, Aaron removed the ring and handed it to Bartolome, for Magdalena would not approach him. “Keep it...for now,” he said, again walking toward the door.

      
“You shall hear more of this matter when the admiral returns,” Bartolome called out at his retreating back.

      
Aaron did not break stride.

      
Magdalena accepted the ring from her champion with her head held high. “Please, do not press him. I will have none of him now.” She turned to Diego Colon and said, “Only let me live here in Ysabel. You have many sick people and I am accounted a good nurse.”

      
“This is a rough city, filled with unprincipled rogues and adventurers. Although there are some Indian women and a few white women from Castile...well,” Diego Colon's face reddened. “You are the only lady in Ysabel. It is not safe for you to remain here without the protection of a husband.”

      
Her grip on Bartolome's arm tightened and she implored, “Please, you know what awaits me at court. Let me stay. I will be no trouble.”

      
Bartolome sighed, looking at her pale, proud face, silently cursing Diego Torres as seven kinds of a fool. “We will await Cristobal's return. Let him decide the right of it. He knows Torres well. In the meanwhile,” he looked at his brother Diego's vacillating expression and said firmly, “the lady remains. There is no ship outfitted to make the return voyage anyway. We can do no less than offer Colon hospitality to her.”

* * * *

      
Magdalena went to her quarters, a simple but spacious room in the stone building, rudely furnished with a lumpy mattress of palm fibers, a small table, and a stool of rough dark wood. Throwing herself down across the bed, she let go of all the misery she had held back during the confrontation with Aaron. Shame and humiliation rushed over her in waves as fierce as any she had encountered in the ocean crossing. That he would mistrust her motives and be angry with her for coming in pursuit of him she had expected. He was proud and stubborn and such a man did not like to be forced into anything, much less marriage, at sword point.

      
Even his accusation that she came by Benjamin's ring through her father was forgivable. But to say she had come to him from Fernando Trastamara's bed! She shuddered and let out a fierce sob. That was beyond bearing. And worst of all, he preferred a Taino woman, one of those savages, to her. She could still feel his cold blue eyes mocking her, feel his surging fury and burning contempt. “Let him rot! A convent would be preferable to being wed to such a monster!” she spat out between clenched teeth, then gave way to another fit of weeping.

      
By evening, Magdalena had done with her storm of tears. She soaked her ravaged face and performed an elaborate toilette to restore her spirits. If she was indeed the only lady on Española, she would look the part! When she entered the dining hall for the evening meal, Bartolome and Diego Colon and six other gentlemen all rose to greet her effusively.

      
At court she had not enjoyed coquetry and was always nervous with the attention of devious and lecherous noblemen, but here the gallantry of the soldiers and adventurers was balm to her wounded spirit. That Diego Colon and the others wanted to court her was at first flattering. Then, as the simple meal wore on, she began to realize the problems such a contest might present. The rivals would soon be at one another with swords drawn. She could be forced to choose one of them to wed, and in truth, she wanted none of them.

      
The dark Argonese, Mosen Margarite, reminded her of the king with his cruel black eyes. But unlike Fernando Trastamara, Margarite had a face that was harsh and craggy like the hardened mercenary he was. No soft courtier, he wore his scars like badges of honor. His rapacity in dealing with Taino rebels in the interior already made people in Ysabel whisper his name and give him wide berth.

      
Alonso Hojeda was a cocky little Sevilliard who acted the part of a fop and a braggart, but beneath his lacy doublet sleeves and elegantly trimmed beard, he was crafty and fiercely ambitious as only an impoverished hidalgo could be.

      
As for Diego Colon, Magdalena had taken an almost instant dislike to his opinionated arrogance. She fervently hoped the admiral possessed Bartolome's temperament, not that of the youngest brother.

      
“Please, Doña Magdalena, more wine?” Diego asked, motioning a Taino servant to pour before she could refuse. Already the room grew uncomfortably warm and her hair, bound by a lacy snood, felt like a great wool cloak clinging to her sticky back.

      
Taking a tiny sip of the bitter red liquid, she nodded her thanks to her petulant host. Diego was obviously put out with the untimely arrival of his elder brother, who had already taken over the duty of
adelantado
, issuing orders and making decisions in Cristobal's absence.

      
Alonso Hojeda eyed her as if she were a succulent partridge. His black button eyes danced as he said, “Your father is in high favor at court, I understand.”

      
“Don Bernardo spends more time in Seville now than at court, sir,” she replied noncommittally, loathing the very mention of Bernardo Valdés's name.

      
“Ah, yes, he is Crossbearer for Fray Tomás de Torquemada, is he not?” Mosen Margarite asked bluntly, full well knowing the answer.

      
At the mention of the Grand Inquisitor's name, several of the men grew very quiet, eyeing her warily, but Bartolome came to her rescue, as always. “Dona Magdalena has been at court, high in the Majesties' favor herself before coming to Ysabel. She has no knowledge of her father's activities.”

      
“Still, the House of Valdés is on the ascendency,” Don Alonso said, further testing the water to frighten off Magdalena's more timid suitors.

      
Wanting to leave the unpleasant subject of Bernardo Valdés, Bartolome turned to Diego and asked, “How goes the construction of the arsenal and the irrigation canal?”

      
Diego scowled for an instant, then quickly covered his face with a smile. “Well enough. Some of the common men assigned to dig the canal from the river fell ill, and we have been forced to call on those of higher rank to work at the task, but we progress.”

      
“You have many shirkers in this settlement, fine gentlemen who will do no work they cannot accomplish on horseback,” Bartolome said in disgust, pointedly eyeing Hojeda and Margarite.

      
“We need more Tainos to do menial tasks. White men forced to dig and chop sicken and die in this climate,” Don Mosen replied coldly. As commander of the interior forts he was a man of some power. The Argonese had easily manipulated Diego Colon but already could foresee trouble in dealing with Bartolome. “I would take a force into the interior once more and finish with those rebel leaders, thus providing us with suitable labor to complete the construction of the city—Indian slaves.”

      
Magdalena looked at Margarite. “Don Diego mentioned earlier that there is much unrest across the island since the gold seekers invaded the interior. Perhaps it is against them you should lead an expedition.”

      
Margarite chuckled indulgently. “You sound like that
marrano
Torres—or his companion in Xaragua, Roldan, who is in open rebellion against royal authority—although I know such was not the intention of a gentle lady.”

      
Magdalena bristled but held her temper. “Gentle, perhaps, but not stupid, Don Mosen,” she replied sweetly.

      
Bartolome interjected, “I would withhold judgment about Roldan and Torres, but I must confess that Torres intrigues me.” He cast a look at Magdalena, trying to reassure her. “He knows the Taino language and has maintained the trust of one of the most powerful
cacique
s—I believe you call them—on Española. This Guacanagari fellow has the admiral's complete trust. He has been a loyal ally and I would keep him so. I think we should visit his village in peace and ask Diego Torres to help us control the men of Castile and Aragon who run loose doing ill.”

      
“Absurd! He has become a primitive, no more than a savage himself,” Diego said to his brother.

      
Margarite scowled but said nothing. He would bide his time and hope the Colon brothers completely lost control of Española. Bartolome and Cristobal allied with Torres' savages would serve all the better. He could then sail home and gain King Fernando's ear. The Genoese’s' downfall would mean his rise.

      
Magdalena wanted never again to hear Aaron's name. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I fear I have a headache and must leave your company. The heat of this place makes Andalusia seem as cool as Burgos.”

      
“I apologize for distressing you, my lady, with our frightening talk of savages and politics,” Diego said, hastening to help her rise from the heavy chair, but it was Bartolome who took her arm proprietarily. He had become a surrogate uncle or elder brother, always protecting her.

      
“I will escort you to your quarters, Dona Magdalena,” he said solicitously.