VOYAGE OF STRANGERS (5 page)

“It is not nonsense! We must leave Barcelona at once!”

“What are you talking about? We have found you a safe haven with Doña Marina, and as you know, I must attend the Admiral for as long as Their Majesties choose to keep him in Barcelona. And on that subject, what do you think you were doing, appearing at Court in a boy’s garb?”

“Never mind about that now! It is
not
safe at Doña Marina’s, thanks to that awful man, and I cannot tell if our aunt is hand in glove with him or ignorant as I would have been had he not seized me, so it is all for the best.”

“Seized you? What man? Can you not tell a story right end to?”

I remembered now that she could not, and that it was impossible to argue with her. I sighed and sank down cross-legged beside the fire.

“You, boy—Javier, is it? You had better sit as well, for it is evident this tale will take some time in the telling.”

“It is all right, Javier,” Rachel said. “For all his seeming fierceness, my brother is perfectly harmless. He is merely worried about me.”

Giving the boy an encouraging smile that would have pierced his heart like Cupid’s arrow, were he not already so obviously smitten, she turned back to me.

“Diego, you worry too much!”

“Do I? Then why, pray tell, must we flee Barcelona?”

“I am trying to tell you, if you will only be silent and listen! My dressing as a boy was nothing to worry about. Nobody gave me a second glance, until I had the misfortune to be spied by Don Rodrigo. And he knew me only because he had seen me at my aunt’s this morning. He is an evil man who wishes us both harm.”

“Are you speaking of Don Rodrigo Maldonado? Our aunt’s suitor? Do you say he accosted you at Court?”

“Yes!
Now
will you listen and let me tell you what happened?”

I glanced at Javier, thinking to send the boy to wait outside. Rachel frowned at me.

“We can speak freely before Javier,” she said. “He has already heard the story, and without his help and Pepe’s, I should never have gotten away.”

“Pepe?”

“The other footman,” she said impatiently.

“They helped you get away from Don Rodrigo?”

“No! From Doña Marina’s. I could not with propriety walk through the streets at night without an escort.”

“Of course not,” I murmured.

“Sarcasm does not become you, brother,” she said. “Javier, he is not angry at you, only at me, and you will have his gratitude once he allows me to tell him everything.”

Accepting the futility of any course but loosing the reins and giving her her head like a mule at the gallop, I set myself to listen. My horror grew as she told me of Don Rodrigo’s schemes and threats. I knew, as she did not, that Papa had anticipated that the Crown would confiscate all Jewish property and possessions. He had saved an ample dowry for Rachel by depositing gold with Doña Marina’s Lombard bankers well before the royal edict. We were bound to our aunt for this reason. Could we trust her? Would she continue to shield her nephew and niece if it put her in danger? Did she indeed wish to marry Maldonado and count Rachel a price worth paying? Or did she wish to fend off his suit?

Rachel claimed that Don Rodrigo was not merely one tempted by circumstance, but a villain to the core. I was inclined to believe it. In our brief meeting, the man had claimed kinship with Juan Cabrera, the only truly evil human being I had ever encountered. If his “distant cousin” Don Rodrigo were cut from the same cloth, we were in danger indeed.

“That is why I had to come tonight,” Rachel concluded. “He could put his wicked plan in motion by tomorrow morning, and if Doña Marina abets him, I would be lost before you reached her door.”

"You know her better than I," I said. "Do you think she will?"

"I don't know," she said. "But can we afford to take the chance?"

“I cannot leave Barcelona without the Admiral’s permission,” I said, “or my future is thrown away as certainly as if the Inquisition took me. What do you propose we do?” I got up to poke at the fire as I spoke, for the coals had grown dim while Rachel spoke.

“Javier has a plan,” Rachel said, with an admiring glance at the abashed footman. “Tell him, Javier. You can explain it better than I.”

The boy cleared his throat.

“Don’t let my brother make you nervous,” Rachel said. “It is a good plan.”

“My lady owns a farm outside the city,” the boy said. “The tenants know me, for I am frequently sent to them with messages. We can obtain mules and provisions there and be on the road by dawn.”

“You must not lose your place for us,” Rachel exclaimed. “You need not come with us.”

“Indeed not,” I said. “Assuming I can square things with the Admiral, I will have enough to do with Rachel on my hands, without taking charge of a stripling. However, you will lose your place in any case, for you will be hanged for stealing from your mistress.”

“I had not thought of that,” Rachel said.

Javier evidently had. From his expression, he believed, however mistakenly, that he would be willing to go to the stake for Rachel.

“You cannot return to Doña Marina’s, Rachel,” I said. “Thus far, we are in accord.”

“Then you agree that we must flee,” she said, “or you would not have mentioned the Admiral.”

“I must get his leave,” I said, “or I must stay in Barcelona. There can be no argument about that. If he keeps me here, I will somehow find you another escort. But in the meantime, I will myself accompany you to this farm. We can certainly concoct some tale that the farmer and his family will believe. Javier must return to Doña Marina’s. He must know nothing when it is discovered that Rachel is gone.”

“I know the way,” the boy said, “and my presence will convince them that you indeed come from my lady. How else will you persuade them to give you mules and provisions?”

“Gold may be persuasive enough,” I said drily. “Surely they will not refuse to sell us food. And I will write to Doña Marina, making some excuse for borrowing her mules and promising their safe return.”

“Then I must come with you that far,” Javier said, “so that I may carry the message.”

Rachel laughed and clapped her hands. Once she knew that I would help her get away, she had thrown off her fear. I confess I was glad to see her eyes sparkle again, even though I hoped she remained on guard against the dangers facing her.

“I cannot approach the Admiral before morning,” I said. “That will give us time to get to the farm and confide Rachel to the care of the farmer’s wife.  I can return swiftly to the city on one of the farmer’s mules. The Admiral is always awake at dawn. I must also contrive to leave the Taino in good hands. I believe my friend Fernando will be willing to take my place. He doesn’t care for the Indians as I do, but he has a good heart. I don’t want them to suffer because of my absence.”

I glanced over at the Taino, who still slumbered in their poppy-induced stupor. “You can't imagine how robust and comely they were,” I said, “when we first came upon them.”

“Perhaps,” Rachel said, “being slaves in Spain doesn’t agree with them.”

Chapter Five

Outside Barcelona, April 19, 1493

It took us till false dawn to reach the farm. Javier led the way, surefooted even in the dark. Rachel followed, stumbling now and then on the cobbles or tripping on her voluminous cloak. Reaching out a hand to steady her, I hoped that she might grow less ambitious for adventure when faced with prosaic irritations and the tedium of travel.

She had always been fearless, tumbling out of trees she had insisted on climbing, breaking up a fight between snarling dogs with a stick, and speaking her mind, even to Papa, whenever she perceived injustice. Indeed, it was a measure of how badly Don Rodrigo must have frightened her that she had come to me in such a state of agitation. However, she had far less stomach for boredom than she had for bravery.

We had no reason to believe that Doña Marina’s household had missed us yet. If Don Rodrigo were to be believed, he had no intention of denouncing us to the Inquisition as long as he believed Doña Marina would fall in with his plans regarding Rachel. Nonetheless, we twice turned into a shadowy alley to avoid the white hoods and red crosses of the
hermandad
that patrolled the streets. The King and Queen, when they united Spain, had joined these local forces into a single body, the
Santa Hermandad
, the Sainted Brotherhood, to keep order in the towns and on the roads. To them, even the policing of a street was holy. I had no doubt the
hermanos
were on the alert for heretics as well as cutpurses and footpads.

I wished Papa were here to tell me what to do. But in my heart, I knew. I must remove Rachel from danger. I must persuade the Admiral to allow me to precede him to Seville, where the great work of assembling and equipping the fleet would take place. Once there, on more familiar territory and close to the sea, I would find a way to dispatch Rachel to my parents in Firenze.

We made our way toward the farmhouse between stubbled fields, a few showing the first green fuzz of early crops. The black of night was turning to a hundred shades of gray and birds racketing like folk at a festival. Javier doused his lantern.

“Must we rouse them?” Rachel asked, nervous now that we must beg for aid.

Javier laughed.

“You have always lived in a city, have you not? Farm folk are always stirring at this hour. I grew up in the country, and we had cows to milk, chickens to feed, and a dozen other tasks before the sun rose.”

As if to confirm his words, a rooster crowed, and cattle lowed as a distant figure drove them out to pasture. The air was fresh and cold, laced with the scent of sweet hay and clean manure, very different from the sharp, salty smell of the sea but pleasant nonetheless.

“What now, sir?” Javier asked.

“We must knock and explain our purpose.”

“Do you suppose they will offer us breakfast?” Rachel asked.

A sleepless night had left her with purple shadows under her eyes. I would do well to tell her about shipboard food: wormy biscuit, dried peas, and sour wine in the later stages of a voyage, and irregularly served at any time. But not now. 

“If not, we will request it and offer coin. I smell bread baking, do you not? And on a farm such as this, they will have fresh eggs still warm from the laying.”

The farmhouse was a low building of wattle and daub. It was roofed with Moorish tile, although the outbuildings surrounding it were thatched with broom. We could hear a rumble of voices from within. I approached the door, while Rachel hung back, looking sick with apprehension, for on our reception here depended the success of our whole enterprise. The mules, in particular, were essential if we were to reach Seville. I motioned Javier to remain at my side, so that the inhabitants might recognize him as one with legitimate reason to be here.

As I raised my hand to knock, the door swung open. Expecting a farmwife in an apron or a plowman in rough garments, I fell back in astonishment when a burly, bearded figure in brigandine and helmet filled the doorway. For a moment, while my thoughts whirled, I considered shouting to Rachel to run. 

While I stood irresolute, a familiar voice issued from within the farmhouse.

“Step aside, Esteban.”

The looming man at arms backed off hastily. With a genteel cough, Doña Marina stepped forward. Like us, she was dressed for travel.

“Good morning, nephew,” she said. “You have made indifferent time. We must do better on the road south, for I assume our destination is Seville. Raquel, compose yourself. A lady opens her mouth only to speak courtesies, take her meals, and say her prayers. And straighten your cap, if you please. You will not resemble a gypsy ragamuffin while in my care.”

Rachel’s mouth snapped shut, and she straightened her cap as directed. 

“Javier, don’t try to sneak away. You have earned a beating, but I will withhold it, as I know full well who lured you into this adventure. I have left instructions to assign you tasks that I am sure will prove suitable penance. You may ask the goodwife for a bite to eat, but then you must make your way home afoot, since you chose that means of coming here.”

Still close to speechless, I stammered, “M-my lady?”

“I am going with you,” she said calmly. “I find it convenient to quit Barcelona for a while, and it has been many years since I enjoyed an Andalusian spring.”

“How did you know?” Rachel blurted.

“Oh, child,” Doña Marina said, “you are foolish indeed if you believed that my faithful old Ernesto would sleep through a disturbance like a gaggle of geese departing through the garden gate or that Pepe could withstand for more than a minute my desire to hear all that he could tell me.”

“But Pepe didn’t  know—”

“I, however, do. Did you think that I remained ignorant of Don Rodrigo’s plans? Or that I would collude with him to carry them out? Esteban, saddle the mules, and tell Hernan that we leave within the hour.” She turned toward the interior of the house, nodding graciously at the stout farmwife who, with flour rising in clouds from her face and hands, bobbed in a nervous curtsy. “You might as well come in. Such a long road is best taken on a full stomach.”