The Day of Atonement (26 page)

“I should say nothing,” Luis told me, “but I will tell you this much. He was a great merchant at one time, and he did not shy away from helping his New Christian friends.”

“That is very admirable. But why should a man hesitate to do what is right? The Inquisition takes those whom it pleases. Evidence is but trumpery, after all.”

“I suppose the trick is to keep them from wanting you. My son exports nearly all his money because the less he has here in Lisbon, the less attractive he is to the Inquisition.”

“But why earn it if you send it away?” I asked. “Can it be retrieved?”

Luis shrugged.

“So there is a way,” I said.

“Reimporting money is risky, but not so risky as leaving it here. You can ask Mr. Settwell about that.” Luis examined his cup of wine, as though curious at its strange ability to loosen his lips.

“Has Mr. Settwell done such a thing?”

“No, not himself. But he saw its consequences on others.”

I understood we were now talking about my father. “Tell me.”

Luis shook his head. “Some things are better not spoken of by a New Christian.”

Was this what had happened to my father? Had he brought money back into the country? Had some enemy discovered what he had done and betrayed him?

“Let us talk of other things, then. I do not wish to ask you to wade through the thicket of the forbidden.” I finished my cup of wine and poured another for both myself and Luis. I then called for a second bottle. I had not been drunk since arriving in Lisbon, but I now began to feel the wine coursing through me. It would be good to drink too much. I was in no danger tonight, and surely if anyone deserved a little taste of oblivion, it was me. I also thought it would be good for Luis to drink too much—far too much, for then he would require assistance in getting home. The thought of seeing Gabriela was too alluring to deny. It would be enough to catch a glimpse of her. Just to look at her face and, perhaps, have her smile at me for showing a kindness to her husband’s father.

I raised my cup to Luis. “To new friends.”

We were well into our third bottle when I began to direct the conversation back toward subjects of particular interest to me. I spoke of my potential business opportunities with the Carvers and how certain the investment appeared. I gossiped briefly about Roberta’s reputation, because doing so would amuse and disarm, and then I returned to the vexing problem of credit. “I am glad we are moving forward with our partnership,” I said. “I only wish he had proved amenable even sooner.”

“So do I. I had hoped as much from the beginning, but I do not attempt to alter his mind in matters of business,” Luis said, stroking his long mustaches. “Not because I would not choose to offer assistance
but because doing so would be counterproductive. If I told my son to lend, he would withhold, and if I told him to withhold, he would lend. He must do things his own way, and even if his own way is not best, I say nothing. Better he should learn those lessons now than later.”

“I understand entirely. In truth, I hardly know what I will do if this venture succeeds. Profits come in gold, and while I know there are secrets to converting gold to negotiable notes without the customs agents or the Factory learning of it, I would have no idea where to begin.”

“The Englishman has not been born who did not wish to conceal his business from the customs agents, but why should you wish to conceal your doings from the Factory?”

I shrugged. “Let us say that I don’t wish to draw attention to myself too soon. A man can make enemies if he rises too quickly.”

“Interesting,” Luis said. “Most men are eager to draw as much attention to themselves as they can. But you are right that doing so can be a double-edged sword.”

“I am as eager as any Englishman to make my name,” I said, finishing the bottle and signaling for a fourth. I used the pause to concoct a plausible story. “I have a sister at home and she is in want of a dowry. I confess one of my hopes in coming here was to earn enough that I might send her the profits. I do not want it said of me, however, that I am weak and womanish because I put my family before trade.”

“You are a good brother,” Luis said.

“It is a love match. But the young man she favors is well born, and to inherit land and title. His parents will not consent without a sufficient dowry. He cannot defy them in this matter. I could attempt to smuggle the gold out of the country, but you know well there are risks.”

Luis smiled as he poured a cup from the new bottle. “You must have this gold before you worry about the risks of possessing it.”

“You are right in that, senhor. I am building castles in the air.”

Luis drank and said nothing. I let the silence linger. Silence was often better than words.

Luis said, “We have methods.” His voice was hardly above a whisper.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Methods of converting gold to paper. You know we dare not keep our money in the country, and exporting gold is, as you say, dangerous. There are mechanisms for making the exchange. There are bankers and goldsmiths here, a network of them, and they have served our people for many years. These are foreigners and noblemen and criminals. The less you know, the better, and I know little enough myself except how to work the network. I used to deal with their representatives directly. Indeed, when I was a young man, a good portion of my income came from acting as a gold discounter.”

“Do you still have these contacts?”

Luis laughed. “None of us go anywhere except the prison or the grave.”

“Then, if I were to find myself with gold, perhaps more gold than you might expect …” I let my voice trail off.

“We do not often aid outsiders,” Luis said. “It would be frowned upon, but in this one instance, for the sake of your sister and your loyalty to her, I shall do what I can for you.”

“It might be a large sum.”

“The sum does not matter,” Luis said with a dismissive wave. “Gold is gold.”

I raised my cup. “You are a good man, senhor. I drink to you.”

Luis saluted me in return.

“This ability to convert gold to notes,” I said. “Can it be reversed? Can you convert notes to gold?”

“Why should you wish to do such a thing?”

“Not I,” I assured him. “That would be of no use to an Englishman. I simply wondered about the story you mentioned before—the man who brought money back into Portugal. Surely it came in as paper,
but once in the country, the foreign notes would have to be turned back to gold.”

“That is it exactly,” Luis said, having forgotten his earlier reluctance.

I was on the cusp of information I desperately desired, but I did not know if I should risk asking for more. I might frighten the older Nobreza. On the other hand, I might never be in a better position to learn the facts.

Fortunately, Luis required no further pushing. “It was a New Christian trader—one with excellent ties to the Factory. He dreamed of amassing enough wealth to bribe his way out of the country. He wanted to take his wife and his son along with his son’s friend and her father.” He paused as if to elaborate, but shook his head. “Wheels needed greasing, however, and the Factory is ever cautious.”

The friend and her family. Gabriela. If my father’s scheme had succeeded, we would all have escaped, as I’d known then.

“What happened to this man?” I asked.

Luis shook his head. “Too many people learned he had the money, and he was betrayed. One of his enemies turned him in to the Inquisition so he could seize the notes for himself.”

“Who was it?” I asked. “Do you know?”

Luis snorted. “An Englishman, of course. Who else would do such a thing? But if you like ironies, I have one for you. This New Christian’s ruin unleashed a wave of destruction. Many others fell, including the man who betrayed him. He was once quite rich, and now he runs a second-rate inn for Englishmen. Indeed, it is the very inn in which you stay.”

I stared at Luis. “The betrayer was Kingsley Franklin?”

“It was indeed.”

Two hours later, I stood on the stoop of Eusebio’s house, pounding upon the door with my left fist while my right arm looped Luis’s
torso in an effort to keep my friend standing. He opened his eyes, looked at me, and burst out laughing. Then he closed his eyes again.

I was a little drunk, but my senses had been sharpened by Luis’s revelation. Franklin had betrayed my father. This news had filled me first with confusion and then with rage. Franklin’s taking money from the Inquisition now meant little. Turning against my father years before—that was unforgivable.

I had no idea what I should do with this information. Kill Franklin? I had come here to take justice upon an Inquisitor, not to go on a bloody rampage, slitting the throat of any man who had wronged my family. Yet I could not walk away from this either.

One of the Nobreza servants, an elderly woman with a displeasing, crumpled face, opened the door and ushered us inside. I led Luis to the parlor and set him in a chair. As I turned around, Eusebio and Gabriela entered the room.

I had to struggle to keep myself from staring at her. Her white gown clung enticingly to her body, exposing much of her shoulders, and her skin glistened in the dim light. I had tried to prepare for her beauty by reminding myself what she looked like and what effect she had upon me, but all that work was for nothing. Looking upon her face was like a blow, forceful and unexpected. Here was the woman I should have married. In another life, I might have escaped with her when we were young. We might have fled to some tolerant land. We would now have children together, perhaps many, and we would be living in contentment. In that life, I was a different person, a man untroubled by remorse or rage. I was gentle and kind and could love without reservation.

“What is this?” Eusebio demanded, interrupting my reverie. “He is an old man, and you took him out and got him drunk.”

“He got himself drunk,” I said. “I merely encouraged it.”

“I thought better of you, Foxx.”

I attempted to hold myself like a dignified man, though I suspected
I was making a poor show of it. My balance was not at its best. Given the right sort of incentive, inebriation could be shrugged off; I knew from experience that if an assailant were to attack, I could recover well enough. Conversation, however, was a bit more challenging.

“Good senhor,” I attempted, “let us not make much of nothing. Your father is not a child. He and I enjoyed good food, drink, and conversation.”

Eusebio shook his head. “I know that in your nation, consuming great quantities of drink is a sign of manhood, so I shall not hold this against you. Not this time. However, if you should abuse my hospitality again, I shall have to rethink our business arrangement.”

I bowed low and long. I did not fall over. Triumph! “I have offended where I did not intend to, and the blunder was one of ignorance, not malice. I have much to learn of your country.”

Eusebio appeared to be considering the merits of this apology. I, meanwhile, was considering slamming Eusebio’s face into the wall.

“Get me a glass of wine,” Luis cried from his near-sleep. “I am thirsty.”

“Bring him water,” Eusebio snapped at his wife. He took one last look at me and Luis, and then left the room.

I now found myself alone with Luis, who had slipped back into a stupor. I kneeled before him and began to remove the older man’s boots. They came off fairly easily, which was something of a relief. I did not know if I was prepared for a complicated operation.

I knew I should leave. Now. Before Gabriela returned. Being alone with her was madness, and I was not in full control.

I stood cautiously, but before I could make my way out of the room, Gabriela entered with a crystal pitcher of water and a goblet upon a pewter platter.

“You are very kind to him,” she said, setting the platter down near her sleeping father-in-law. “I know he enjoys your company.”

“And I his,” I said. I took a step back. The room, which had seemed
well lit a moment ago, now appeared too dark for a man and a woman accompanied only by an unconscious old man. “I am sorry to have offended you tonight. I truly meant no harm.”

Gabriela had poured water into the cup and was now bent over Luis, gently tipping it to his lips. I admired her shape under her gown, but I would not let my eyes linger.

“To my mind, it is good that Luis has a companion,” she said. “Like many men his age, he longs to have someone to talk and listen to. But until you have concluded your business with my husband, you should not be
too
good a friend.” She stood and looked at me. “Eusebio can be guarded about his position.”

She shared confidences with me! More than that, what she told me was at the expense of her husband. This was almost as good as a kiss. “It is hard to live in the shadow of a successful father,” I said. “Your husband wants to be his own man. I understand that.”

“Was your father a great man?” she asked, still serving the water to Luis.

“Oh, yes,” I answered.

Gabriela set down the goblet and studied me, as if trying to puzzle out some mystery, but then seemed to shake away the notion. “I am trusting in your honor, Mr. Foxx. I hope you will be good to my husband. Our luck has not been the best. There have been some missteps, and some debts, and we cannot withstand any more ill turns.”

“I understand,” I said, though I did not. Was she warning me off? She did not recognize me, but could it be she felt some ember of what had been between us?

“I want,” I told her, “only that everyone should benefit.”

Gabriela looked at her father-in-law, slumped in his chair, and now snoring quite loudly. Then she gazed about the room and seemed to notice, for the first time, that she was, for all practical purposes, alone with me in the gloom.

“I must go,” I said.

“Good night, Mr. Foxx.”

“Good night, senhora.”

“Mr. Foxx.”

Grateful for the excuse to look upon her once more, I turned around.

“This is much to ask and I know it is not your religion, but it would look good for us—make a good impression upon those who watch—if you would join us for church this Sunday. To entice an Englishman to come to mass with us would help my husband’s standing. It would also protect us, at least a little. The Inquisition may be less likely to persecute New Christians who stand some chance of bringing Englishmen to the faith.”