Paradise & More (Torres Family Saga) (52 page)

      
Just then a soft knock on his door brought Cristobal from his sad reverie. “Enter,” he commanded, expecting a servant or some supplicant in trouble with the law. His face softened with a gentle smile when he saw Magdalena.

      
“Am I disturbing you, Cristobal?” she asked, eyeing the logs, letters, and other official-looking documents strewn about his office.

      
“Of course not. I am most heartily happy to see you returned safely to Ysabel. What of the boy?” he asked, knowing well how long and arduously Aaron had searched for Navaro.

      
“I fear Aliyah lied and Navaro is dead. That, or else she keeps her promise from beyond the grave. She told my lord he would never find his son, even if he searched forever.”

      
“And, of course, knowing Aaron, he will never relent,” Colon said gently. “Is he yet in the interior going from village to village?”

      
“No. He has received word of Hojeda's escape from Bartolome and given chase.” Magdalena debated how to broach the subject of Francisco's desire for a pardon. “While he searched the interior for Navaro, Roldan visited every village in Xaragua for us. The boy is not there.”

      
Cristobal's watery blue eyes took in her earnest face as he escorted her to sit at the table and poured them each a mug of wine. “You like this rebel rascal,” he said, prompting her to speak.

      
A slight smile curved her lips as she sipped the wine. “Aaron said you were ever a genius at reading people's thoughts. Yes, I owe him my life. When Guzman brought me to Xaragua, I shudder to think what might have befallen me but for Don Francisco. Now Roldan has gone with Aaron. Together they will capture Hojeda. I would wager on it.”

      
Colon sighed. “If only that would end the dissension.”

      
“Once the Castilian malcontents are subdued and civil order restored, Bartolome tells me you wish to return to the royal court and plead for more funds to find the mainland.”

      
“In truth, I go to court to plead my own case. Buil, Margarite, many another good Castilian, Argonese, even a Catalan has gone before me to slander how I have governed. I fear I am competent only aboard ship. Life on solid ground does not sit well with me.”

      
Magdalena smiled. “Quite the opposite of my husband.”

      
“Surely he did not confess such. He was always at pains to hide the seasickness from all,” Cristobal said with evident surprise on his face.

      
“He could not hide it from Francisco, who revealed it to me in Xaragua,” Magdalena replied with a chuckle. “My lord did not take it well that we made merry of his affliction.”

      
“I can imagine that,” the admiral said, some of his humor returning for a moment as he recalled the seasick young fleet marshal. “Aaron would rather have paddled a canoa across all the islands of the Indies than sailed aboard ship for a few weeks. Yet he crossed the Atlantic in a terrible gale and returned again with me to Española. ”

      
“And you will return to the court. I know your courage, Cristobal. You will plead your case with the Majesties and win their support anew.” Magdalena prayed such would be the case as she studied the weary, prematurely aged man who sat before her with the glow of a visionary still lighting his eyes.

      
“I will return to Castile of a certainty. My sons are there, as is Fernando's mother, a woman I hold in great affection. Yes, I will try again. There is so much yet to do, to explore, places no European has seen in hundreds of years—some places where no Christian has ever trod. I would be the one to see the great Khan.” His shoulders slumped as he touched the compass sitting by his hand amid the clutter. “But until the civil unrest on Española is quelled, I am a prisoner to this land.”

      
“If Aaron and Francisco bring Hojeda to you—and if both rebels pledge to support you, would that not provide the tranquility you need to then set sail?” Magdalena asked.

      
“You are persuasive, my lady. Yes, perhaps it would allow me to return, but first—”

      
The loud sound of cannon fire followed by the blare of trumpets interrupted his speech. Both Colon and Magdalena leaped to their feet and walked to the door. A messenger from the harbor came racing down the long stone hallway, his booted feet echoing on the bare floor.

      
“Don Juan Aguado bids you come to the beach! The royal emissary direct from the king and queen has arrived aboard a fleet filled with food and wine! We are saved!” the fat little Catalan said, not looking in the least as if he had suffered a day's privation while on Española.

      
“Royal emissary, indeed. He is a court chamberlain of no particular rank who sailed with me on the second voyage and returned home fast enough last fall. I requested that a trustworthy judge come to Española, a man who would study the problem and then report back about the rebellion and laziness of the nobility here,” Colon muttered as he and Magdalena walked into the hall. He turned to the messenger, and instructed him, “Bid Don Juan come to the governor's palace. Tis much cooler here and I would not have him overtaxed awaiting me on the beach in this hot climate.”

      
Magdalena watched Don Cristobal turn stiffly and bow to her. “I fear I must make ready to receive one of Queen Ysabel's peacocks. I would not take it ill if your husband and his friend Roldan returned to Ysabel with a subdued Alonso Hojeda thrown in to sweeten the bargain.”

      
“I devoutly believe they will return quickly, your Excellency,” Magdalena replied, praying what she said would come to pass. The governor needed a miracle—and quickly.

      
The interview between the Colons and Aguado went poorly indeed. The chamberlain quickly set his scribes to recording the testimony of every malcontent in Ysabel. All blamed the Colons for everything from crop failures to Taino rebellions, even for the dwindling amounts of gold found in Española's rivers!

      
The miracle arrived early the following week, and none too soon. Two caravels bobbed into the sparkling water of the bay, sending off a shot of cannon as signal.

      
Before the ship's boats were lowered, the clatter of horses' hooves in front of the governor's palace announced a bearded, dusty rider's arrival. As he leaped from the saddle, Aaron tossed Rubio's reins to a startled Taino servant. He climbed the wide, flat steps with ground-devouring speed and was greeted by Bartolomé Colon with a hearty bear hug.

      
“From the look on your face, I would say you know whose ships those be entering the harbor with such boisterous display.”

      
Aaron's eyes rounded in innocence. “Why, 'pon my soul, Don Bartolome, know you not that they are the governor's ships? Slightly delayed by way of Xaragua, but now filled with a valuable cargo of brazilwood—and bearing two loyal sons of the crown who long to return to their governor's fatherly embrace.”

      
“You and Roldan took Hojeda—and convinced that arrogant little prig to swear allegiance to Cristobal?” The
adelantado's
eyes glowed with pure delight. “God's bones, tis time something went well for my brother!”.

      
“I heard rumors as far away as Guacanagari's village about a royal visitation. Let us hope this token of tribute from Roldan will win us royal favor,” Aaron replied grimly. Then, looking down at his dusty clothes, he added, “If this emissary from court is one for ceremony, mayhap I should bathe and dress for the occasion.”

      
“Magdalena is at your
bohio.
She left after the midday meal for a brief nap. I think she will be well pleased to see you returned,” Bartolomé said with a wink.

      
“What? She is not tending the sick at Chanca's hospital?” Aaron asked, surprise, then worry flashing across his face. “She is not fallen ill?”

      
“The lady seemed in the bloom of health. Only go and see for yourself. I shall arrange to greet our visitors and escort them to the governor's palace. You have earned our gratitude once again, my friend,” the adelantado said. Then he could not resist adding, ”Tis passing strange that you would ride overland when you could have joined Roldan and Hojeda upon the caravel's grand entry.”

      
Aaron turned and fixed Bartolomé with a level stare. “By the twenty-four balls of the twelve apostles, has she told everyone?” Then, unexpectedly, he threw back his head and laughed. “To hell with it. I shall pass precious little time at sea ever again, so I care not.”

      
Aaron walked across the plaza toward home. Odd, the small neat
bohio
was scarce the home of his dreams, certainly not pitched amid the squalor and disease of Ysabel, yet he realized that home was now wherever Magdalena dwelled. Together they could make any place tolerable, even this colony.

      
He called her name as he entered the door. Stepping inside, Aaron allowed his eyes to accustom themselves to the dimness. It was a hot day, the sun dazzlingly brilliant outdoors. The
bohio
was empty. With a muttered curse, he turned back toward the door and nearly collided with Analu.

      
As if reading Aaron's worried mind, the Taino smiled and said, “The mistress is at the river with other women washing clothes.”

      
“She has two servant girls handsomely paid to do the scrubbing,” he grumbled, looking at the fire pit outside the
bohio.
Nothing bubbled in the empty pot over the unlit pile of kindling wood. “Welcome home!” he muttered sourly. Then an unholy light gleamed in his eyes as he rubbed his beard-bristled chin. “Analu, send to the palace for Rubio.”

      
Several minutes later, the laughter and chatter of Taino and Castilian dialects was broken by the splashing noise of a horse's hooves churning through the water. The Indian women and a smattering of tradesmen's wives, along with a more numerous group of women from the Sevìllian waterfront, ceased their labors to admire the tall, golden man mounted on the big bay horse.

      
“Is he not grand?” one young whore whispered in awe to her companion, letting a length of linen tunic drop from her hands into the water with a splash.

      
“He is the governor's commandant, no one for the likes of us,” the older woman replied bitterly, thinking of all the maravedis lost to her enterprise when Aaron's red-haired lady arrived from Castile.

      
All eyes, Taino and Castilian, turned from Aaron to Magdalena, who stood waist-deep in the clear rushing water, with a mound of scrubbed clothes piled on a large worn rock. She was wrestling with a length of cloth when Rubio came charging through the deep water toward her.

      
“I have already warned you about consorting with these women. You have servants aplenty to do manual tasks. All I ask is you oversee a hot meal for your husband. Is that too difficult?” he called out as he reached down to toss her across his saddle.

      
Magdalena raised her sodden cudgel of heavy cotton and swung it with a lusty plop against his chest. “You want washing more than these clothes. Also you want manners!” she cried as he ducked and Rubio shied, splashing her with a torrent of water. She snarled a remarkable oath as he again turned the bay toward her, but this time when he reached out his arm, she was unable to avoid his grasp. As the river's swift current caused her to lose her balance, she all but fell into his embrace.

      
Aaron lifted her up and swung her across his saddle, then took off amid the catcalls and cheers of the Castilian women. The Tainos stood in round-eyed wonder and hid a few giggles behind their hands. They all watched Magdalena wriggle on her precarious seat and Aaron swat her buttocks until she let out a fierce oath. By that time the lovers had disappeared from sight around a curve in the river where the jungle claimed a patch of hilly ground.

      
Aaron slowed Rubio's gait long enough to pull his soaked wife up onto the horse in a sidesaddle position. “You have soaked me and my horse!”

      
“Good. You both need a bath,” she said breathlessly, pushing away from his grasp and eyeing his bristly golden beard with distaste. “You have been gone for a fortnight. Hojeda must have given you good sport.”

      
His face creased in an arrogant grin. “That the little popinjay did, but Roldan has him well in tow before the governor now.”

      
“They sailed in, all bathed and ready for an audience while you, of course, could not accompany them aboard ship.” She could not resist the taunt, knowing how sensitive he was about his affliction. Male vanity was such a whimsical thing.

      
“I may not fare well on the ocean, but I can take care of myself—and you—right here on dry land,” he replied, reining in Rubio before the great spreading branches of a silk cotton tree. Cooling shadows and a soft breeze from the distant ocean beckoned them to enter the canopy. He slid from the horse and pulled her down into his arms where he held her fast. “I mislike coming home to find you gone.”

      
“I mislike tending a cookfire week in and out waiting for you to reappear from the jungle,” she replied angrily, aching to fling her arms about his glorious neck.

      
“I have told you not to consort with those whores. Only the lower classes do such difficult labor. I know I am no longer a rich man, but you are a lady and my wife. I have provided servants—”

      
“Twas fearful hot and I needed cooling off. Naomu has been ill with the fever and could not do the washing. I merely wished the diversion. Since, as you pointed out, I am a lady—the only one of such rank in Española, whom am I to talk with when all the men are off playing at war and politics?” By this time her hands had crept up to tangle in his shaggy golden hair.