The Flesh and the Devil (11 page)

         
'He is . . . better, then?' Dona Luisa seemed disturbed. 'I
am glad.'

         
'I may speak with him then?'

         
Tristán nodded coolly. 'It is arranged, madam. The Duque is
as impatient as you. His longing to see you has made him sick — he has had to
take to his bed, and that is not yet a fit place to receive you.'

         
Juana's eyes blazed, but before she could answer Dona Luisa
smiled her faint, fugitive smile and tapped Tristán's arm with her fan. 'Hush,
senor! You embarrass our guest!'

         
'Your pardon, madam.' The tone converted courtesy to
sarcasm, and it set Juana's teeth on edge.

         
Doha Luisa's fan lingered an instant before it was
withdrawn, and a moment later the little entourage went Otto, the dwarf bowing
and flourishing his hat in the mercenary's direction in a parody of
courtliness. When Juana glanced back the man had gone, his long swift step
making no noise on the inlaid floor.

         
'You do not care for Senor Tristán?' Dona Luisa's
low-voiced question made Juana start.

         
'I have scarcely seen him. He— he came to me last night
with a message from the Duque, to welcome me, but that is all.'

         
'From my nephew? I did not know that he had been sent to
you. What message did he give you?'

         
'Mere civilities. I did not need them.' Juana thought of
the ring that she had left in the room upstairs, and shook her head to dispel
the rush of memory. 'I thought him very impudent.'

         
Àh, that is his way. He is a foreigner, you know, and not
bred to our customs; sometimes he may seem a little neglectful, but that is his
own code of manners.'

         
Juana found her fingers touching her lips and lowered them
quickly: Dona Luisa had not seemed to see. 'I had rather call him
over-diligent,' she answered stiltedly. 'He is a valuable servant to us.'

        
Dona Luisa led the way through the main door and along the
cloisters, where an early morning breeze still lurked to cool Juana's cheeks.
The apricottinted walls seemed seared against the pale sky, and by contrast the
shadows within the colonnade made patterns of violet, dove-grey and black. So
much beauty, Juana found herself thinking, yet even in the open air was a taint
of the unhappiness that hung over the castillo.

         
The Chapel of San Sebastian was full of gloom and shadows,
its white-robed clergy with their tall candles looking like specters in the
half-light that filtered between the stone columns. Something like a hundred
people knelt on the chilly flags, but the place was far from crowded. Juana's
eyes moved restlessly, seeking some sign of the Duque de Valenzuela's presence,
before she realized that she was seeking a red head among the dark ones. She bowed
her head instantly, almost guiltily, shutting her mind to everything but the
familiar celebration.

        
When she rose to her fret at last someone extended a hand to
help her. She found herself face to face with the pale, pointed features of
Riccardo Martinetti.

         
'Senorita de Arrelanos, you slept well?'

         
He was younger than she remembered, she thought; small and
slight. It was his splendid mount and scarlet uniform that had endowed him with
the authority she remembered as he rode alongside her carriage at the head of
the ducal escort. Now, seeing him closely, she realized that he could not be
much more than twenty years old. She assented with a strained smile, and as
though by accident he fell into step beside her.

         
'I did not think you would favor us so early after your
long journey. You seem too way-worn yesterday even to look out of your coach at
the Duque's lands.'

         
'Or perhaps I had no care to see them.' Dona Luisa had
stopped to confer with one of the white-clad Dominicans in the nave, Tia
Beatriz beside her, and Juana moved towards them. It sounds churlish, signor,
but I saw sufficient. All the lands looked the same, no villages — not even a
well; only derelicts and emptiness. Is the Duque lord of a wilderness?'

         
Martinetti grimaced slightly. 'His Grace's estates are
encumbered with taxes, like every other; it is the same all over your country.
The lords and nobles cannot afford the grain and seed to pay the peons for
their labor on the land, so the peasants go to the cities; hundreds of men
scraping a living on the fringes of the royal courts, hoping to earn a single
escudo. Spain is no longer the richest country in the world, senorita; she has
been at war too long. Nor are her nobles the richest men, for they are living
on the capital of the past, and what is customary counts more with them then
what is good.'

         
'Yet you continue to stay in our poor country?'

        
The Italian smiled, his pale face brightening. 'It will
prosper awhile yet, senorita, and while it does I shall be here. But I should
not speak to a great lady of such a sordid thing as money — most would be
offended if it was thought that they cared for it or even knew of its
existence.'

         
But my father became a merchant to cure his poverty, and I
know that living on capital is folly at any hand.' Juana glanced past has
slight shoulder at the grey-clad figure of Dona Luisa. 'What do you think,
signor, of selling goods to one man which are promised to another?' 'It is poor
morality but good trading.'

         
Martinetti regarded her acutely. 'Are such tricks played
nowadays?'

         
Glancing at him defensively, Juana saw that he had caught
her meaning.

         
'Yes.'

         
'Then I am sorry for your sake, but for my own I cannot
regret the bargain that brings you to Andalusia. Who is it you seek, senorita?'

         
She had not realized that she had recommenced her search,
and she colored.

         
'For — a face I know, signor. It is hard to look about you
and see only strangers.'

         
He nodded in wry agreement, and then his cropped black head
turned sharply. 'Your wish is granted,' he returned ruefully. 'Here comes Senor
de Castaneda.'

         
This morning de Castaneda wore a suit of scarlet and gold
which became his flushed complexion poorly, but the bold colors gave him a
festive air. He seemed to be in high good humor as he greeted them, his podgy
face full of satisfaction.

         
'Senorita Juana, and in such great beauty! Luisa —' the
smile hardened as his wife approached — 'I have been waiting for you. I came to
show our fair niece-to-be some of the treasures of the Castillo — a prologue to
the lovers'

         
meeting, ram?' He had insensibly elbowed Marinetti from
Juana's side and now darted him a malignant look. 'Leave us. When the senorita
needs a gallant, I shall command her one.'

         
The Italian bowed and withdrew in silence.

         
De Castaneda was playing the jovial uncle, urging the
little party back across the courtyard, when his wife spoke his name in a low
voice. For a moment he affected not to hear her, and then when she touched his
arm he stepped aside and waited for her to join him. As she came back to him,
letting the others pass on, he asked impatiently, 'Well?'

         
The muscles jerked in Dona Luisa's crepey throat. 'We met
with — with Felipe on our way to Mass. He said that their meeting is arranged
for noon today.'

         
'Well. What of it?' He would have gone on, but she stopped
him.

         
I am worried, Eugenio. What you are doing - it is not
right, it is not fair to the girl. I know I agreed that this was the only way
to preserve the estate, but now that I see her she is too - she should be sent
back to her father.' She spoke with sudden decision. 'It seemed very reasonable
when you explained it to me, but I had not apprehended fully what her part in
it must be. It is cruel and wicked! She has no idea what her bridegroom will be
like, and - ' And she is too well-favoured, her thoughts added, and I hate to
have fair women under
his
eye. 'Eugenio, you must reconsider it.'

         
'What
I
am doing! What
we
are doing, my dear
Luisa; you cannot disown your part now. Or would you rather give back all we
have gained for the sake of a scruple? The girl will take no hurt, I promise
you - no actual hurt,' he qualified hastily. 'She will be a Duquesa within the
week, a thing most women would sell their honour for. What matter an unknown
bridegroom, compared with such eminence?'

         
'I wish you would not, that is all.' Dona Luisa sounded
tired. 'I know you think that the King has cheated us by forbidding any
marriage, but he has good enough reason, and we have had twenty years here. And
I was content when we lived in Aragon,' she added, half-indistinguishably. 'I
cannot breathe among these stifling hills.'

         
`Tush, you talk as if our lives were over!' De Castaneda
gripped her shoulders, squeezing the fragile bones hard. 'I mean to live for
many years yet, I can tell you, and enjoy each one to its height.'

         
'Senor, you are stayed for.'

         
Juana spoke from the end of the colonnade, and de Castaneda
turned, blinking as he did so. She looked like a flame in that sombre gown, he
thought fancifully, against the forest of sunlit columns; sweat pricked his
palms, and he found himself licking his lips.
Not yet
, he told himself.
Later,
when all is secure
. .

         
. . He executed an over-defer-ential bow , baring his
teeth, and hurried towards her, leaving his wife to follow.

         
Had she tried, Juana could not have schooled herself to
more complete indifference to the wonders enclosed in the Castillo Benaventes;
her thoughts were so firmly fixed upon her coming meeting with Duque 13artolome
that she barely saw them. She moved through the great building in uncaring
obedience to de Castaneda's urgings, passing through corridors and chambers and
painted galleries with an unmoved face and measured, unhesitating steps.
Nothing could win a sign of wonder or surprise from her, not even the
obeisances of the courtiers they encountered on their way; the pale, sober
figures might have been so many bowing phantasms.

         
A glimpse of her aunt's strained face and hobbling
footsteps recalled her at last to reality.

         
'I am grateful for your care, Senor de Castaneda; she
interposed as he paused for breath, tut I fear that my aunt and I are both too
weary to do justice to any more than you have shown us already. Perhaps we
might return now and see the rest another day?'

         
It was a subtle challenge, and de Castaneda's brows lifted.

         
'By all means, senorita, if you so desire!' Malice settled
briefly about the curves of his fleshy mouth. 'I love the place so well that I
am apt to believe that everyone else must share my passion. But, certainly,
there are many years ahead in which you may examine the smallest detail at your
leisure.'

         
Juana inclined her head, suppressing a wince. The remark
was a shaft she should have foreseen, but it was no less painful for that. With
outward composure she moved forward again on de Castaneda's arm, unaware of the
look he gave her in which admiration mingled with something that made his
bright eyes narrow and speculative. It was Dona Luisa who recognized his
expression, and her heart sank: she knew there would be no persuading her
husband from his purpose now.

        
Dona Beatriz surveyed her niece and blinked away a
surreptitious tear. 'There!

         
That is very well, dear child, if only you would change
that dreadful black gown!

         
But I cannot like this — this private meeting, whatever
Senor de Castaneda may say.' Her tone was faintly defiant. 'When I was a girl
it was not considered permissible for a virtuous young woman to be alone with
any man, even her own father.'