Curse of Stigmata (The Judas Reflections) (13 page)

“I suggest you be safely on your way home,” I told Francois, lowering my sword. “And, you have my apologies for Rachel’s behavior. She finds it amusing to steal, and is a stupid girl at the best of times.” I added an offer of a generous sum for compensation, which he proudly declined.

“I’m convinced I’ve experienced a hallucination, for a moment there I imagined I’d shot you,” he said, preparing to leave us. “I couldn’t have… there’s not a mark on you.”

“Possibly down to faulty gun powder. It happens.”

I did nothing to expel his ongoing confusion, which seemed to diminish the theft. Quietly, he mounted his horse and left. His life spared, he’d likely go on to tell the tale of a strange encounter in the middle of a snowstorm. It will be over a bottle of wine with a friend who’ll listen and laugh at such fantasy.

“
You!
…You should be pushed off the edge of the mountain, Rachel; even then, you’ll find a way to claw yourself back up so you can continue making my life a misery. I’ve been very patient until now. I don’t want to look at you, do not speak to me!”

“Such drama over an old, worthless chalice. Men are so prone to overreaction,” she replied, nonchalantly.

Without caring what she did or said, Juan and I continued our journey, neither one of us looking back to see if she was following. I turned onto the final path I felt certain would lead to the border, my mood brightening as the sun came out and began to melt the already wet snow. I was pleased with myself for showing mercy to Francois, who, unlike Isaac, did nothing to deserve death at my hands. Having Juan around me was a good and calming influence. Roderick was a fighting man and a Celt to boot. He’d have bellowed at me not to dally and drive the sword in. We both held the belief in an eye for eye, but I often thought I was incurring even more of God’s wrath for taking a life. I glanced behind me, the sound of horses hooves announced that Rachel was still with us. Why did I bother to look?

“I think I see the border,” Juan advised.

How he could tell where it began, considering the terrain looked identical with no markings, was beyond my comprehension. I would need to see or speak to someone to know the language changed before I knew. I was grateful for Juan’s company as the mountain terrain deteriorated. It had once more become too steep for the horses, and on foot, we led them precariously over a dangerously narrow ridge. Rachel didn’t complain, perhaps fearing more of my admonishment. She slowly and carefully followed behind Juan.

“We should be able to mount the horses as soon as we pass the ridge.” I was right. The slope down wasn’t severe, and much to my relief, Juan announced we were in Spain. I breathed a sigh of relief, as we were out of danger.

“We’ll need to stop soon and search for somewhere to eat. We still have a way to go once we come down off the mountain,” said Juan

Reaching the border was by no means an end to our journey, and we’d run out of food. After a slow descent, we came across a farmhouse; a woman was outside doing her washing.

“Can we have a meal, Senora?” Juan asked, politely. “We’ve traveled a long way and are in need of sustenance.”

She studied us carefully, Rachel in particular, whose hair wildly hung over her face. All of us dirty from the journey, we might have appeared suspect. I opened my purse in the hope she’d see we had means to pay. As was the custom, she took my money before leading us inside.

“If you need to board for the night I have room. There’s rabbit stew and cabbage. Take it or leave it. I have nothing else to offer.” She motioned to the hearth.

“Rabbit stew will do fine,” I assured her, offering an endearing smile.

We were so hungry, even boiled nettles would have been enticing. She introduced herself as Maria, a widow woman who was anxious to feed and send us on our way. She claimed not to be the social type and her brother, who was overprotective, would arrive soon. Not wanting to be involved in yet another confrontation, we ate quickly determined not to stay a moment longer than necessary.

Throughout the meal, Rachel had been a mute. Her head bowed, she’d eaten her food in silence doing her best to be unobtrusive and not provoke my wrath. Juan and I did most of the talking. It was a most pleasant experience, as if she had ceased to exist.

aving been focused only on reaching safety, I’d forgotten what day it was and Juan informed me it was Wednesday.

“Do you think we’ll reach an inn by nightfall, Juan? Look at the sky, it’s ominous.” I pointed out the dark, low-hanging clouds as we made our way.

“We’re descending now; it won’t be long before we find a place. According to the map, we’re on course, so you can relax. Rachel, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“Why so short on words considering you always have an opinion?” I asked.

“There is nothing interesting to comment on, including the company. Besides, you told me not to utter another word, and as soon as we reach the port or somewhere I can find a carriage. I’m leaving.”

She sounded furious. But if anyone should be furious, it was me, considering I’m missing a coin with no knowledge of its whereabouts. Not to mention, my chances of safely returning to France for many years remained in doubt. In my eyes, I was the one who had the right to bark, not
her.

Rachel bore such a similarity to Sidonia von Borcke. I swore they were twins in evil who gained pleasure in plotting and scheming their way through life with great velocity. Unlike Rachel, Sidonia was a noblewoman from the Duchy of Pomerania, put to death in 1620 for supposedly being a witch. Drifting through the Baltic lands around the time, I was introduced to the iron woman. Her flaming long red hair and low cut bodice was enticing, but I knew she was a viper and best to be avoided.

Using what little self-control I had with the fairer sex, I kept my distance. It turned out to be a wise move, less I’d be tarred with the same brush, unlike many others who succumbed to her charms.

After a lengthy trial, she was found guilty and decapitated, and her body burned. Whether Sidonia murdered all the people she was accused of killing, no one knows for certain. It would remain a mystery, and in spite of her madness and trouble making, I never believed she’d been responsible.

Rachel could easily suffer the same fate if not careful, convinced she can get away with everything and more, regarding herself as invincible. I’d seen it all before, including the inevitable miserable end.

I now focused on making way to Comte’s other residence, where we would leave the horses and secure a carriage ride to Santander. The less I thought about Rachel’s likely fate, the happier I became.

Snow clouds continued to loom, and yet the weather Gods were kind. Not a flake fell, making our journey easier and giving us a chance to gather headway. I breathed a sigh of relief when, finally, we arrived at the Spanish residence in one piece.

“This is it, Juan,” I said. “Now we can take the last part of our journey in the comfort of a carriage. After a good night’s sleep.”

“I hope the servants have plenty of wine and good food. I need both,” he joked.

Comte and Racco had houses all over Europe, each one maintained in constant readiness for their appearance or that of special guests. I was never quite sure how they amassed such a fortune from one profession, suspecting Comte was not only selling mushrooms but other questionable goods on a grand scale.

His home stood regal at the base of the mountain in Santa Marina, a building large enough to sleep twenty people or more, but mostly housed only servants. The St. Germaine flag was down, a signal he wasn’t in residence. Sadly, Rachel’s eyes lit up as we reached the door, like an animal sniffing out her prey, she detected more wealth than she could ever imagine.

“Don’t even think you can get your talons into Comte’s wealth. He prefers the company of only the finest and richest women, and if they’re married, even better. You’d be little more than one hour of cold lust, discarded afterward as if you never existed. I don’t jest,” I assured her.

“If I ever have the pleasure of meeting Comte again I will let him be the judge of my suitability. I see it as none of your business who I take up with.”

“I make it my business when I see a friend embroiled in problems because of a worthless woman,” I replied, determined to let her know I knew who and
what
she was.

The door was opened by a manservant who accepted us only upon a letter I handed him, signed by Comte. Clicking his fingers to summon help for the horses, he beckoned us inside.

“I expect you would like to wash and have something to eat,” he said.

It was music to my ears. I was stinking from days of travel, as being immortal didn’t make me immune from body odors, hunger, or fatigue. The hospitality was beyond my expectations. A wonderful meal of soup, roast lamb and fruit pudding was laid out before us. Rachel hadn’t bothered to tidy her newly washed hair, appearing like an untamed gypsy girl.

“I could get used to this,” Juan remarked. “Comte and Racco are the most generous of hosts. I must return the hospitality one day.”

“They wouldn’t expect you to. I’ve noticed Comte gains real pleasure from his wealth, it’s what keeps him happy,” I said. “I admire and respect his intelligence and generosity. I should strive to gain as much as he has. I know it’s possible.”

“Life doesn’t revolve around how much you acquire Emmanuel. Before I was immortal, I thought the same as you. Now I know different, other things are more important,” Juan replied.

Was he wrong, or simply naive? The pleasures of drinking wine and helping those less fortunate was not for me. My views on life were very much in black and white. God only helped those who helped themselves.

“If it wasn’t for the wine and occasional women being your weakness, I’d say you should become the first immortal monk,” I teased.

“A monk? That would never appeal to me. Besides, my guilt isn’t wretched enough to drive me to the gates of a monastery.”

“Then let it be said you have monk-like qualities. I wouldn’t be surprised when we arrive in Santander to see you take Rachel under your wing. I expect her to leave you broken when she’s done, but you’ll still believe you did the right thing.”

Meanwhile, Rachel disappeared only to return wearing a beautifully beaded long dress. She swished it around her legs, encouraging Juan to give his opinion on how she looked. Instinct told me she couldn’t possibly have owned such a garment.

“Where did you get it?” I demanded.

“It belongs to me; I packed it before we left. It’s mine,” she replied, smugly.

“You’re a liar. Where did you get the dress?”

“Arrêté, mon Dieu!”

“I won’t stop Rachel. Now, tell me where you got the dress, or I swear I’ll tear it from your body and leave you naked!”

“That will be a sight to see,” Juan said, the wine talking.

“All right, I found it upstairs in one of the box chests,” she confessed.

“Again you steal. What is wrong with you, girl? My coins, the chalice, and now this? Comte would be wild with anger if he knew you had taken something from his home. Go, take it off!”

“Can’t she take it off here, by the warmth of the fire?” Juan was drunk, and for that, he was excused. Rachel was about to follow his instructions until I intervened, ushering her firmly upstairs to change with orders to return the dress precisely where she had found it. I didn’t want to fall out of favor with Comte now or anytime in the future.