The Devils of Cardona (27 page)

Only when he was satisfied that mastery had been achieved did he pull his shirt on again across his raw back and bow his head to say his prayers. He told God that he was a paltry and disgusting thing and promised him that he would administer the same punishment to himself whenever it was necessary. But he also asked for forgiveness and reminded the Heavenly Father how well he had served him this last week. For the two Moriscos had finally revealed their secrets. The apprentice had confessed and ratified his statement without further torment. The carpenter had required more severe treatment, but he, too, had confessed and ratified his confession.

Both Moriscos had denounced each other and given up other names in an attempt to save themselves, and new charges were already being prepared. Everything had been carried out in accordance with the law, more or less, and if some corners had been cut, that was only because even divine justice was sometimes obliged to travel by a more direct route than time or the law allowed. Rarely in the history of the Zaragoza Inquisition had an investigation been brought to such a swift conclusion, and Mercader had no doubt that the information he'd acquired would now make it possible to impose the necessary discipline that would finally bring the whole kingdom to the path of virtue. As he knelt by the bed with his hands clasped and his eyes pressed tightly shut, the inquisitor was sure that God loved and forgave him and that the creator of all things would give him the strength
to resist the vile images and temptations through which Satan had tried so often to undermine his most faithful servant.

The next morning he awoke feeling rested and convinced that his prayers had been heard. His servant brought him almond-scented water to wash his face and draped him in his black robes. After a light breakfast in his room, he went downstairs to the tribunal chamber, where Fiscal Ramírez, Inquisitor Orellana and the notary were already waiting with the lawyer Montes, whom the Inquisition had appointed to represent the two Moriscos. At eight o'clock the prisoners were brought in together in chains. Royo was accompanied by his guardian and walked with a limp, and the carpenter Navarro had to be carried in on a chair by Pachuca and another jailer.

It took Mercader the best part of an hour to read out the charges, with all their related details pertaining to the crimes to which the Moriscos had confessed. Navarro stared at the floor throughout with an expression of resignation and despair, while the young apprentice buried his head in his hands and occasionally let out a whimper. When Mercader had finished, Inquisitor Orellana asked their attorney if he was cognizant of any facts or information to contradict these charges or whether he wished to call on any witnesses to refute them. This was purely a formality, since Montes had already rejected these options.

“The defendants plead guilty to all charges, Excellency,” he declared. “And they now await the judgment of the most holy tribunal.”

Mercader proceeded to pronounce sentence on the two Moriscos and on their accomplice Vicente Péris in absentia. The three Moriscos, he said, had committed the most grievous offenses against the laws of His Majesty King Philip II and the Holy Catholic Church. Both Péris and Navarro had previous convictions and had made abjurations
de vehementi
. Yet both of them had continued to worship the sect of Muhammad and plotted to bring about the downfall of Spain. They had consorted with Huguenot heretics
and Turkish spies and the infidel bandit Vicente Péris, who called himself the Redeemer. They had confessed to the murders of the priest Father Juan Panalles and the Quintana brothers. As a consequence the carpenter Pedro Navarro was to be handed over to the secular authorities for execution and the Morisco Vicente Péris would be burned in effigy until he, too, was caught and executed. Their property was to be confiscated by the Holy Office, and their two sanbenito tunics would remain in the church at Belamar as an eternal reminder of the abominable crimes they had committed against the Holy Mother Church.

In view of his youth and his cooperation with the tribunal, the Morisco Juan Royo would spend eight years on the king's oars, and a sanbenito would also be kept in the church at Belamar as a permanent testament to his infamy. On hearing his sentence, Royo burst into tears.

“I'm sorry, Pedro,” he sobbed. “I couldn't—”

“The prisoner will be silent!” Mercader ordered.

Navarro stared back defiantly at the inquisitor with an oddly triumphant smile on his face. “I will burn just once, Mercader,” he said. “But you will burn forever.”

Mercader made the sign of the cross and declared the tribunal over.

he Countess of Cardona was modest about her own birthday celebrations and generally felt more embarrassment than pride at the honors and blessings that her vassals bestowed upon her each year. But her daughter was another matter. For Carolina's eighth birthday, she had arranged a number of treats and surprises to ensure that it was an unforgettable day, just as she did every year. In the morning she took her daughter to the chapel to thank God for another year of life together. Afterward they ate breakfast with Susana and Mercedes in the courtyard, where the servants came to wish Carolina happy birthday and served her a breakfast of almond cake, jellies, marzipan and chocolate.

The three women then accompanied Carolina to the stables, where the countess showed her the foal that she had asked the stable hands to set aside for her. Carolina was delighted with the animal and immediately demanded to be allowed to feed it and lead it around the
corral. When they were finally able to tear the child away, they stopped off at the house of a Morisco family whose father had recently died, so that Carolina could distribute alms, because, the countess told her, it was important to know that the good fortune bestowed on her was not shared by everyone.

They arrived back at the palace to find a collection of flowers, homemade sweets and cakes, fruits, handmade straw dolls and wooden animal carvings brought by the countess's vassals and other well-wishers. The highlight of the day came after lunch, when they retired to the drawing room to listen to the musicians who had been brought secretly into the palace without Carolina's knowledge. They played pavanes, galliards and old folk dances from the countess's childhood, and the women danced and took turns playing the parts of lady and gentleman, until Carolina persuaded Federico and Tomás to join in, too.

Everybody was gay and cheerful, and even Susana seemed to put aside her anxieties regarding her father's journey to France. The countess's enjoyment came to an abrupt end, however, when a servant announced that the Marquis of Espinosa was waiting in the reception room. She had half expected a visit from her father-in-law, but she had even less desire to see him now than she usually did. She found him in the guest room, perched on the edge of the sofa with his long neck and balding head protruding from the white ruff, one clawlike hand agitatedly tapping a bony knee with its long nails, like a vulture waiting for carrion.

“Isabel, how nice to see you!” He smiled.

She offered her cheeks and sat down opposite him with her hands resting on the black satin dress like pale sea creatures resting on a seabed and looked at him warily. As always, her father-in-law's deep-set brown eyes reminded her of her late husband, but unlike his son's, the count's eyes always had a faintly predatory glint that inevitably undermined his attempts to be charming.

“I assume you've come for money, sir?” she asked.

The count's smile immediately faded. “Is this how you greet your father-in-law on his granddaughter's birthday?”

“I wasn't aware that you planned to visit her.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Then please let us come directly to the matter, as I wish to be with my daughter.”

“Very well.” Espinosa sighed. “The answer to your question is no. I haven't come to ask you for money. I have come to give you advice.”

“I wasn't aware that I needed anyone's advice, sir, particularly yours.”

“Believe me, you do. In three days' time, Vallcarca will be here with his son. Rodrigo will once again ask for your hand in marriage. The baron has asked me to intercede on his behalf.”

“That is very noble of you, sir. I am fortunate to have a father-in-law who pays such close attention to my interests.”

“My dear, I have your interests at heart far more than you realize, and I urge you to accept this offer.”

“And how is the baron?” she asked. “I understand he has been quite busy lately, arranging for three of my Moriscos to be handed over to the Inquisition.”

“The crimes they committed were carried out on his estates, not yours, and the baron is perfectly within his rights to do whatever he sees fit. Vallcarca is not a man with a great deal of patience. And I fear that you are close to exhausting his limited reserves.”

“Do you threaten me, sir?”

“Come now, Isabel,” Espinosa said calmly. “I'm warning you, not threatening you. Accept this offer or—” The green eyes flashed momentarily before he left the sentence unfinished and sat back, as if he had said too much.

“Or what?” the countess persisted.

“Isabel.” Espinosa lowered his voice and leaned toward her, and for the first time since she had known him, the countess thought she detected a
trace of genuine concern in his face. “These are powerful men. No one can oppose them. Let alone a woman on her own. I know how much Miguel cared for you, even though you did not reciprocate—”

“You know nothing of my feelings for your son!”

“Come now, my dear. The marriage was arranged before you were old enough to know anything about it. We both understand that. It was arranged by your father for your family's sake. And I implore you to do this for the sake of your family now. It doesn't matter what kind of man Rodrigo Vallcarca is. It wouldn't even matter if he were a Jew. This is just the way the world works. Marry him and you will preserve your family's estates. Refuse and you will lose everything.”

“I would not marry Rodrigo Vallcarca if he were the last man in Aragon,” the countess replied. “And I will not hand over the House of Cardona to the Vallcarca family. I am scandalized, sir, that you, Miguel's own father, would come to the home he once shared with me to try to persuade me to do something that is so completely contrary to his wishes or my own.”

“Your concern for my son's wishes is touching,” Espinosa sneered. “A pity you didn't show a little more passion in the marriage bed. With a few more children, you wouldn't be in the situation in which you now find yourself.”

“You disgust me, sir! I did not choose to marry Miguel. That does not mean that I did not care for him in the way that a woman should.”

“Perhaps.” Espinosa looked at her pityingly. “But if you don't accept Vallcarca's offer, then you're more foolish than I took you for. I need to be back at court, Isabel. I can't live buried alive in Toledo.”

“Then you should have spent less time in gambling houses and paid your debts. You couldn't even repay my dowry when Miguel died, yet now you expect to sacrifice my future and the good name of my family in order to pay for your weaknesses? I will not, sir.”

Espinosa glared at her, and then his face immediately relaxed into a smile as Susana appeared in the door, holding Carolina by the hand.

“Carolina!” he exclaimed, opening his arms. “Happy birthday! Come here, petal, and say hello to your grandfather! I've brought you something!”

Carolina had never been especially fond of her grandfather, but she did as she was told and stood with her arms stiffly by her sides as Espinosa embraced her.

“Now, close your eyes!” He pulled the girl closer toward him and placed a doll of a Moorish princess in her hands. As he did so, he looked over her head at the countess with a cynical, lopsided smile that only intensified the anger and disgust she felt toward him.

“Thank you,
abuelo
!” Carolina said. “Mamá, will you dance with us?”

“You go, darling, I'll come in a minute. I assume you are leaving, sir?” she asked coldly when the child had gone.

“Well, it is a long way to Huesca. I was planning to return in the morning.”

The countess reluctantly agreed, and Espinosa went up to his room to change. She ordered Tomás to summon the bailiff Sánchez before returning to the dancing. An hour later the servant came back with a message from the bailiff's wife saying that his father was seriously ill and that he had gone to Lérida for a few days.

“Why didn't he tell me he was going?” she asked irritably.

“Señora Sánchez said he left in a hurry, my lady.”

The countess felt sorry for the bailiff, but she was also annoyed that he was not available, because of all her servants and officials, Jean Sánchez was the one she depended on most in a crisis. In addition, Jean was also able to talk to her father-in-law and might have taken him hunting so that she would have less to do with him.

For the rest of the day, she managed to maintain a façade of civility, thanks to the presence of Carolina and Susana. By the early evening, she could not stand the old man's presence any longer. After putting Carolina to bed, she told Susana to tell the marquis that she had a headache and was retiring early. She let out a sigh of relief, sat down in front of the mirror and
loosened her hair until her maidservant returned and knelt to unbutton her shoes.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Susana asked as she began to unbutton the countess's dress. “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

Susana stood behind her and took out the comb from her hair and began to unravel her braids. “If you're worried, then I'm worried, too,” she said.

“You have enough to worry about. Though your father is probably safer in France than he is here.”

“You're stiff as a board.”

The countess closed her eyes as Susana began to massage her neck and shoulders and work her fingers skillfully into her muscles, until she felt her maidservant's lips brush lightly against her neck.

“Not now,” she murmured. “Not with that creature in the house.”

“He won't hear us.”

The countess felt her resistance melting away as Susana sucked one of her earlobes and licked the inside of her ear. She reached back and pulled her maidservant toward her, holding her fast in a long, deep kiss as Susana's hand slid down under the nightdress and gently molded her breasts.

“Come to bed, my love,” Susana whispered. “Come.”

The countess stood up obediently and let the dress fall to the floor as her maidservant took her hand and led her toward the canopy bed. She lay under the sheets, watching Susana unbutton her bodice and dress and let down her long, dark hair before extinguishing the lantern. The room was now so dark that the countess could barely see her maidservant draw the curtain around the bed. And then she no longer needed to see her and was no longer worried about the nameless threat that her father-in-law had brought into her house as she ran her fingers through her lover's hair and responded to her kisses and caresses.

Espinosa, Vallcarca, Mendoza and all her other would-be tormentors seemed to fade away into the warm summer night as the Countess of
Cardona surrendered everything—propriety, morality and rank—to the perfect beauty she held in her arms, in the darkness that hid and protected them both.

•   •   •

I
N
THE
EARLY
AFTERNOON
on the second day, Mendoza and Segura descended from the high mountains and reached the fertile floor of the Ossau Valley. Here the going was easier, and they rode across a flat plain, past vineyards and cultivated fields of wheat, millet and rye splashed with red poppies and open meadows bursting with wildflowers where sheep, goats and cattle grazed. Everywhere they saw signs of the power and wealth of the heretic kingdom of Béarn, from the cleared streams, well-maintained stone bridges and tollgates to the coned châteaus and castle towers protruding up through the thick forests of chestnut and tall pines that tumbled down from the steep, rocky heights on both sides of the valley and the stone or half-timbered farmhouses with barns large enough for entire families to live in.

The towns and villages also impressed Mendoza. Even the more humble houses were better constructed than the ones they had seen on the higher slopes, with tile or thatched roofs instead of rushes and branches held down with stones. Their inhabitants also seemed less abject. In addition to the ubiquitous peasants and laborers in their clogs, bonnets, capelets and berets, and the barefoot boys and girls in identical soiled smocks, they passed fine carriages with curtained windows and busy markets stocked with bread, dried meats, fruits and vegetables, leather goods and metal tools.