Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 (26 page)

People waved to us in warning or asking for help. My heart went out to them, especially the wounded, but I couldn’t spare the time.

I shouted to them to get out of the way, but I didn’t stop. They couldn’t help me, I couldn’t help them. The urge to reach my husband consumed me. John Kneller could take as many shots at me as he liked—I wouldn’t stop this side of death.

White and I paused when we reached a crest, from where we could look down on the city and harbour.

We gazed down in silence, as did some others, who were either leaving the city or arriving, or just staring, too shocked to make any decision. Neither of us could think of anything to say, bar a few low-voiced expletives from my companion.

The city lay in ruins. Jagged remains of buildings jutted up into the air like defiant fists, others sharp like daggers, stabbing uselessly into the sky.

Parts of the city appeared intact, like the palace, close to the harbour. We weren’t near enough to see or hear the responses from the inhabitants, but on the highway, people were already streaming out of the city on horseback or simple vehicles, carts and gigs. Probably traders who had their vehicles tacked up and ready to go. They might have been delivering in the city and turned around at the first sign of danger. The more affluent residents would try to salvage what they could and would likely try to commandeer any vehicle they found. Soon it would be total chaos down there.

As we stared, I discerned scattered spots of colour racing around the streets. People. They hurtled towards the harbour, probably to take ship, but the city did appear more intact in that direction. I could imagine the shouts of terror, officials trying to keep order, demands of the more self-important. And I wanted my husband.

Kicking up my horse, I headed down the slope towards the city.

Only to stop once more as I caught sight of something out at sea.

It looked like a wall, but this was a wall of water. It reared up like a living thing, or as if some deity had summoned it, like a conductor ordering a crescendo. The grey-green mass surged inexorably towards the shore.

At our cries of dismay, people stopped to look behind and their cries joined ours.

We could do nothing but watch as the huge wave rode the sea towards the shore. People raced in the opposite direction, and I thought I heard their calls, lifted on the wind.

Terror seized me, freezing my bones. I was glad my sister couldn’t see this. Enough that one of us had to witness it. If our husbands had survived the earthquake, this great wave might well finish them off. Dear God.

I could do nothing but pray. Paul should be in one of the churches, while Richard would remain in the house. Would at least one of them be safe? God help me. God help them.

The wave crashed over the town, swamping everything and everyone in its wake. The only good effect was to kill some of the fires that flickered around the city, but they could have been dealt with in a much less destructive way. I prayed for Richard most, but I remembered all the inhabitants and visitors, everyone I saw who flowed through the city, and pleaded with God to save them all.

“My lady!”

The cry didn’t reach my consciousness at first, and he had to repeat it, raising his voice over the cacophony of wails around us.

I jerked my head around to see if my ears were telling me the truth. They were. Carier cantered towards me, on a horse whose sides heaved with exertion. This was the main road out of this side of the town, so he would head for it to get to the
palacio
.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

Tears shimmered in his eyes. “You can do nothing down there. Come away, ma’am. Now!”

“No, I will not. While I can do something, I will stay.”

He moved closer, so our mounts nearly shared breaths. “You can do nothing, believe me. But you can save your children. There are mobs down there. If he has survived the disaster, he doesn’t need to concern himself for your safety. You’ve seen him in a corner. He fights with no thought of giving quarter or gentlemanly behaviour. He needs you safe to do that. If he has to think about you, he’s dead.”

Nothing else would have persuaded me. But the reminder of the children, and Richard’s protective nature towards me, demonstrated how well Carier knew his master. And how well he knew me.

I waited for him to move clear before I wheeled my horse around. It would have traversed forty miles by the time we reached the house. It couldn’t be helped. If it dropped under me, I’d have to find another. I’d rest it, let it drink, and hope for the best.

I glanced over my shoulder at the ruined city, sending my heart there for Richard to touch. If I couldn’t be there, then something of me would remain to encourage him. While I was alive, he’d continue to fight.

The ride back was necessarily slower, but we exchanged few words. I wanted the full story, not one recounted briefly, and I needed time to absorb what we’d seen. Terrible things, sights I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy—who was perhaps still at large, making mischief. He would see this disaster as an opportunity, I was sure.

Richard would return; I would consider nothing else.

Back at the house I was relieved to find it in one piece, though wondering at the chances of it, a mere twenty-five miles away, surviving. I had imagined sleeping in a pavilion on the grounds, but it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary. I brushed off concerns from my attendants, relieved to discover no lassitude pulling at my muscles. Not yet, at any rate. I’d make the most of it, before my body decided it had had enough.

Lizzie met me at the door, but I brushed her fussing away. “I have tea,” she told me, the first thing she’d said that held any interest for me.

“Order more.”

I had to make sure my children were well, see them for myself. I lifted my skirts high and took the stairs two at a time, then ran to their nursery. The nurses were feeding them, and after, they would sleep. I kissed the babies, hugged Helen and left to find Lizzie waiting for me outside.

“Under Nichols’s direction, the servants took them into the gardens when they felt the first tremor. Before they brought them back inside, Joaquin insisted on having every part of the house scrutinized. They found a few cracks, and we’ve lost some of the stucco and pilasters, but the building is sound. We are safe here.”

I thought of the people streaming away from Lisbon. “There are many people about, much more than usual. Lisbon is gone, Lizzie. Destroyed. I didn’t get down into the city, Carier wouldn’t let me. He told me the mob was about, and Richard would need to keep his wits about him. That’s all I know. I saw—” I broke off and shuddered, “—terrible things. But those who are able are leaving the city.”

“I’ve set people at the perimeters and around the house.” She closed her eyes as the import of what I told her took hold. “No news?”

I shrugged.

I followed her to one of the smaller salons at the back of the house. Glancing out the window, I saw the garden no longer had its almost military precision. Now it seemed almost dishevelled, some of the cleverly cut hedges and bushes drunkenly askew.

I motioned Carier in. Nobody questioned me, although Lizzie gave me a quizzical look. Joaquin had stood at my entrance, and I had no compunction in taking the chair he led me to.

I glanced back at Carier. “Come and sit, man. You’ll fall over if you don’t.”

Lizzie cleared her throat.

I had no patience for the proprieties right now. “He has news. He’s ridden all day, and he needs to rest so he can tell us what he’s learned.”

At once, Lizzie found another dish and poured an extra serving of tea. She didn’t object any further when Carier found a chair and sat. He’d have to be exhausted to contemplate doing so. He refused the tea, but I took it from my sister’s hands and pressed it on him. “Don’t be foolish. Drink, and then tell us. Consider it Thompson’s business, if it helps.”

He gave me a grateful smile and drank. He didn’t stop until he reached the bottom of the dish, then he handed it back to Lizzie with great care.

“I fear I have no good news, my lady.”

I knew that. “Tell me he’s not dead.”

“Not to my knowledge. He was living when I left.”

“Then why—?”

“Why did I leave him? Let me tell you in order, ma’am. It will make more sense that way.” He glanced around, but he needn’t have done so. He had our complete attention. He frowned. “You’re sure this house is safe?”

“Perfectly,” Joaquin said. “Some repairs are needed, but it won’t tumble down, unless we have another earthquake.”

“Ah God, don’t say that.” It spoke for the way Carier had taken the disaster that he would even display such weakness. He buried his face in his hands. “I’ve served in the army, I’ve followed my master into the bowels of hell, but I’ve never seen anything like this. I knew something was wrong when the rats came out.” He lifted his head, staring at us from suspiciously watery eyes. “Rats always know when something is wrong. There were far more in the streets than you would expect to see.”

He paused, but not for long. I could see determination in his granite features, a decision to tell his story to the bitter end. I prayed that it wouldn’t be too bitter.

He didn’t look at me, or at Lizzie, making me fear the worst, but addressed Joaquin who sat quiet and still, all his attention fixed on him.

“I didn’t let up until I got to the house, at about twenty past eight, but Kneller had beaten me to it. He had only one purpose in mind—to cause my lord as much harm as possible. To hurt him and kill him. He had a lock of hair he claimed was your daughter’s, and he’d contrived to bloody it. Probably by using his own gore. He had the master and the marquês at gunpoint. My lord didn’t twitch, didn’t move when I entered the room, and I would have put all right, but the marquês looked in my direction and the—Kneller turned on me. He shot, I ducked and then fell, feigning injury. But there was no blood on me, so he told me to get up.

“By then my master was on him. Kneller had other weapons tucked into his belt, and my lord grabbed one and tossed it to the marquês. We had him. Or so we thought.

“I told my lord what we knew, that the boy had mined the house or rendered it unstable in some way. Kneller laughed my notion to scorn, but then I would have expected that. He struck a theatrical pose, and drew his final weapon, which he’d had hidden, holding it to his own head. That gesture affected my lord deeply, though I suspect nobody present knew it but me. Most of the servants in the house had already left for early service at the church, so the house was nearly empty. ‘You’ll never know,’ the boy cried. ‘And I will die before I tell you!’” Carier made a scornful noise. “Kneller should have stopped then. Shot them and got away. Thank God he did not.

“The marquês told him to drop his weapon, to no avail. My lord turned away, feigning indifference, and the boy lowered his weapon, aiming it at my master. I could do nothing, since I lay too far away to get to him before he fired. I should have moved faster, I should have done something, but I thought the best way was to wait and to choose my moment. I didn’t know we had so few moments left.” With a visibly shaking hand he accepted the second dish of tea Lizzie held out to him and drained it like a man dying of thirst.

Joaquin rose to his feet. “I’ll get some brandy.” Carier was obviously in deep shock.

Carier shook his head. “In a while, sir. Let me get this out first. Please.” He would get blind drunk if he wanted to, but not before he’d told us.

Now Carier met my gaze. “I failed, my lady.” He took a deep breath, pushing the air into his body. “Kneller forced us out of the room and towards the kitchen stairs. There was one servant down there. He shot him. The kitchen is below the ground, a small window at the top letting in air, but it was hot there, as hot as hell because of the kitchen fire blazing away.

“I think the boy was half mad, confronting his—my lord in that way. I made my move, stumbled and came up with a small weapon I’d hidden about my person. He responded, but he switched pistols almost immediately and had a fresh one ready. I ducked, but Kneller leaped over me and into my lord, who fell the rest of the way down the stairs, collecting the marquês on the way. The gun went off, but it hit the wall. Kneller must have known they could overpower him and he ran.

“I couldn’t do anything but race up the stairs after him. Then I heard the explosion behind me. The bomb had gone off. It rocked the house. Windows exploded out, and I was lucky not to be hit by flying glass. People screamed, but the house stayed upright, although there were great cracks in the outer part. It was sturdily built, but when I went inside, I discovered some of the inner walls had fallen in, and I couldn’t get to the steps down to the kitchens. I needed help. I ran to muster some likely men, but it took too long. I had gathered half a dozen and we had returned to the house and were assessing the damage. I had every expectation of digging them out.

“Then the earthquake struck. I’d felt the ground move under my feet once already that morning, and it confused me. The shifting ground made me fall. I saw buildings falling, like paper houses, not bricks and mortar. I ran up the street and found a horse, a good mount and saddled ready. It would have charged—its ears were back and I could see the whites of its eyes—but I took the bridle in a firm hold and let it know I was master and it was safe with me. The sound was terrible, roaring and crashing as buildings fell. I’ve been in the heat of battle and nothing was as bad as that sound. I’ll hear it to my dying day.”