The Falcons of Fire and Ice (57 page)

I can’t say I cared much for the falcons. I was terrified that one lunge with those dagger-sharp beaks of theirs and they’d have my eye for supper. But in time I got used to carrying one on my arm, once Isabela had made a pad for me with a twist of cloth stuffed with moss, for their claws were like dragons’ talons.

The first two nights Isabella removed the cloth bindings from their eyes and kept the birds constantly awake, to
man
them, as she put it. In other words, make the vicious little brutes tame and docile, and accustomed to the sight of us. I was amazed at how quickly they grew used to us. And while we still hooded them when we walked, at night their bright eyes watched us and they learned to take the raw bloody morsels she held out to them wrapped in a few feathers to help them digest the flesh.

Once we reached the sea, the ptarmigan were replaced by seabirds and eider duck. Take it from me, gulls are not good eating. So I tried my hand at fishing and managed to hook a seal, which would have been a welcome catch had it not been dead, and not just dead, but rotting and putrid. Nevertheless, I spent many hours drying the parts of it I could salvage over a fire. Isabela begged me to throw away the stinking mess, but as I told her, it was the first thing I’d caught and I wasn’t going to part with it, despite her wrinkling her pretty little nose and protesting.

Even her laughing protest was a sign that relations between us were thawing. The fact that I had, in all modesty, saved her life, did make her trust me a little, though I could tell at first she was still extremely wary of me. I suppose it was only to be expected. When a woman learns you’ve crossed several seas with the express intention of murdering her, it’s only natural she should be a tad reserved in your presence, a little jumpy when you get too close.

But I did not attempt to explain what that bastard Vítor had told her. That’s another lesson I learned early in life, never offer excuses until they are asked for, it makes you look guilty. But finally, one night as we sat shivering around a tiny fire, roasting a plump little duck, she asked me if what Vítor had said was true. Of course, I told her the whole story … well, most of the story … some of the story … Look, I admitted my name was Cruz, what more do you expect? One should never distress a lady with the truth.

I stared into the flames with an affecting sigh. ‘It’s with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I put you in grave danger, Isabela. The truth is, there are those of us in Portugal who are seeking to overthrow the Inquisition, even perhaps the throne itself if we must. We have helped some to escape the clutches of the Inquisition; we steal records and sometimes even assassinate key members of the
familiaries
, making it appear as an accident so as not to arouse suspicion. It is dangerous work.’

I stole a glance at Isabela. Her eyes were wide and she sat motionless, obviously completely enthralled

‘There was one man,’ I continued, ‘a lawyer, who was responsible for reporting many innocent people. We couldn’t allow him to continue, but we couldn’t simply lie in wait to stab or strangle him. They would have turned the town upside down searching for his killers, so I volunteered to break into his house one night. I had to climb over the roofs of several houses like a monkey, leaping across the gaps between them. Several times servants heard me on the roof and I flattened myself in the shadows as they wandered round peering upwards, but at last I reached his house and mercifully the shutter was open for it was a warm night.

‘I flipped over the edge of the roof and swung myself in. I almost landed on top of him and his wife as they lay in bed. As it was, I trod on the tail of their dratted cat, which screeched as if I had tried to kill it. Its cry woke the man’s wife, so I had to fling myself into a chest to hide while she got up and put the cat out. I lay in that chest until I could hear them both snoring, then I tiptoed out and poured a few drops of poison into the man’s open mouth as he slept. His coughing and wheezing woke his wife, but the poison was fast acting. I managed to slip out of the window again when she went running down the stairs squealing for someone to come to help her husband who was having a fit. I tell you, I came pretty close to getting caught that night.’

‘I had no idea,’ Isabela breathed. ‘That is such a brave thing to do.’ It was obvious she was impressed.

‘Alas, you will not think me so very brave,’ I said, ‘after I confess to you what I must. You see, I was assigned to follow Vítor on this voyage. Of course, I knew from the beginning that he was a Jesuit priest working for the Inquisition, but we didn’t know what his purpose was in making the voyage. Perhaps I should have dispatched him while we were still at sea, but we needed to know what he had come here to do. It was only at Fannar’s house that I discovered that his purpose was to prevent you from returning home. When Ari first took us to the cave, I tried to kill Vítor then, but I confess that I failed. You see, I’m accustomed to working with poisons. I’m not skilled with a knife. Blood, you see – it always was my weakness. But my cowardice put your life in terrible danger. Can you ever forgive me, Isabela?’

She put her hand on my arm and squeezed it. ‘You twice saved my life. Deeds say more about a man’s heart than his words. Although … I did enjoy the story.’ She turned her face away, and I could have almost sworn she was struggling not to laugh.

It was odd though, of all the many stories I have told about myself that was the only one that I had ever really wanted to be true. Maybe there was some point in my life when if I had taken a different path I could have been that man, that hero, fighting for a cause … All right, I know, just who am I kidding? You’d no more believe that of me than if I said I could have been a saint if only my parents hadn’t named me Cruz!

It took us many days to work our way along the coast until we found a little harbour, surrounded by a cluster of tiny houses. Thank God, if you believe in divine providence, it was mercifully free of the accursed Danes.

A small,
lateen-rigged
caravel
was riding at anchor, a piss-poor ship, whose captain had suffered a run of ill luck and was trying desperately to do a spot of illegal trading before the winter set in. The ship was bound for Antwerp, but from there it would be possible to work south to Portugal by sea or land. The ship was due to sail on the following day’s tide. The captain needed little persuasion to take passengers – frankly, he would have taken a flock of mangy goats, he was that desperate – but the problem was money and I didn’t have any left. I would get it though. I’d sooner spend a hundred years in purgatory than a single winter on that desolate island. Even if I had to stand on the street corner and sell myself as a whore to any hairy-arsed sailor or farmer who passed by, one way or another, I was determined to be on the ship when she sailed on the morrow.

But in the end I was not required to pimp myself. I had already devised another plan for getting money, one that had come to me some days before when we first reached the coast. And I have to thank that sweet angel, Eydis, for that. I would never have thought of it had it not been for watching her tending that man in the cave. Mummy! It cures everything, so of course everyone wants it, especially with winter coming on and people liable to fall sick. But the prices those Danish and German merchants demand were nothing short of extortion. It’s an absolute disgrace. There ought to be a law against cheating poor hardworking people like that.

I can’t tell you how pathetically grateful they were when I offered them genuine mummy for a fraction of the price, made, as I assured them, from the finest Egyptian embalmed corpses. I showed them the fine black powder, I even encouraged them to sample a few grains, and though none of them had been able to afford it before, they were certainly not going to admit that in front of their neighbours, so they all agreed that it smelt and tasted of the very finest quality. They bought every ounce I had to offer. And to think Isabela wanted me to throw away that dead seal!

I returned to the place where we were camping a little way out of the village. We had decided against seeking lodgings, for we couldn’t afford for the white falcons to be seen, and there was no knowing who might be in the pay of the Danes.

I told Isabela that I had found us a ship and what the greedy oaf of a captain wanted for a passage.

She bit her lip. ‘I haven’t a half of that left and I still need to buy some live chickens to take on board to keep the falcons fed and buy food for the hens too until they are slaughtered. Will he take less, do you think, if I offer to cook on board?’

‘I tried to argue him down,’ I told her, ‘but I couldn’t budge him and I’m afraid he has a cook already, one of his hands. I saw him.’

‘There may be another ship before the snows,’ she said desperately.

‘The locals say this is the last.’

‘So all of this has been for nothing,’ she whispered. ‘Even if I find a way to get the white falcons back, it will be too late. Father will be dead.’ Her face was a mask of utter misery.

There was nothing I could do to help her. I didn’t have any more of the mummy left to sell. What could I do? I only had enough for my own passage. I mean, I’d have to buy food for the voyage and wine too. Sweet Jesu, I wasn’t about to set foot on that hulk without a barrel or two of wine to take the edge off the misery. Then when I reached Antwerp, I’d have to find another ship to take me to Portugal and …

And … who was I fooling? I couldn’t return to Portugal, not if Isabela did. Those two bastards in the tower of Belém would know I’d broken my oath and have men hunting me down within an hour. When Vítor didn’t return they’d guess that something had happened to him and would no doubt try to blame me for his death on top of everything else. I didn’t know what the penalty was for dropping a Jesuit priest down an ice ravine and leaving him there to die, but I had a feeling that the Inquisition would have reserved their most exquisite tortures for just such a crime.

No, I had to face it, if Isabela returned home, then I would have to remain an exile. But not here, Sweet Jesu, not on this island. There were surely more pleasant countries in the world where I could exercise my considerable talents. If I got as far as Antwerp I could go anywhere, maybe I could even sail to Golden Goa. Why not? Why not really go there? They said riches lay heaped in the streets, just waiting for a man to scoop them up.

I glanced up at Isabela. She was stroking the breast of one of the white falcons turned rosy pink in the firelight. Tears glittered in her eyes. I sighed. Then I pulled out the leather bag of money from around my neck and thrust it into her lap.

‘Here, there’s enough there for passage on the ship and a second ship to take you back to Portugal, if you’re careful.’

Isabela stared at me. ‘But I can’t take it. What about you? How will you pay for your passage?’

I flapped my hand vaguely. ‘I’ve another purse, twice as heavy, when I want to use it, but I’ve changed my mind about returning yet. I’ve decided to stay here over winter. I didn’t want to tell you before, in case you were frightened I was abandoning you. But you remember Fausto telling us about the diamonds? Well, before he died, he confided to me the exact location of a mountain where they’re to be found. He didn’t want to say anything on the ship, for fear others might beat him to it. Those seamen always had their great hairy ears flapping. Anyway, I’ve made up my mind to go and look for the diamonds. In a way I owe it to Fausto’s memory. Prove him right after all. I can mine the stones all winter. Those caves are pretty warm and well hidden from the Danes. Then I’ll pop up again in the spring and find a ship. By that time I’ll be as rich as King Sebastian himself.’

‘But I can’t let you stay here.’ Isabela’s face was a picture of concern. It was quite touching to see it.

‘Do you think I’d pass up the chance to get rich?’ I said, with a cheerfulness I certainly didn’t feel.

‘I know there aren’t any diamonds,’ she said fiercely. ‘Just for once, why can’t you …’ Tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘Thank you … thank you, Marcos, for my father’s life.’

I saw Isabela off on the early morning tide. We smuggled the falcons aboard in baskets concealed between the cages of hens. The falcons would have to remain hidden until the ship was well clear of Iceland. When she turned to say goodbye, I took her hand. There was something I still had to tell her.

‘Isabela, Vítor is not the only Jesuit who wants you dead. There are many who are very anxious you should not return, especially with those birds. I hope, with all my heart, you will get there in time to save your father’s life, but if you do, you must promise me you will not stay in Portugal for one day longer than you have to. Get a boat, walk over the mountains, leave in any way you can and as fast as you can. They are determined that one day soon you will be lying in their dungeons too.’

I had watched Isabela come close to death more than once, and thought I had seen her afraid, but what passed across her face at that moment was a look of profound dread and foreboding that I had never seen on the face of any man or woman before. She was terrified of what she was about to do. She was forcing herself to go back, when every bone in her body must have been screaming at her not to return. I cursed myself for giving her the money and it was all I could do to stop myself dragging her back off the ship. But I knew even that wouldn’t stop her.

‘Don’t go, Isabela, please don’t go back.’

She swallowed hard and forced a smile. Then she reached up and kissed me on the cheek.

‘You just can’t help being a good man, Marcos, in spite of what you try to be. Promise me you’ll never stop looking for diamonds.’

I watched the ship receding from the shore, saw her triangular sails unfurl and leap eagerly before the wind. You know me, I’ve never exactly pestered God or any of his saints, and I didn’t intend to make a habit of it, but I reckon every man’s entitled to ask for one favour from the Old Man just once in his life.

‘Blessed Jesu,’ I whispered, ‘look after her. Let her live to grow old.’