The Devils of Cardona (18 page)

The baron ushered Mendoza into a roomy, high-ceilinged study and sat opposite him with his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands folded on his
lap. Mendoza looked around at the array of weapons on the walls and the large tapestry showing a group of aristocrats hunting a deer.

“A fine piece of work,” he observed. “From the twelfth century?”

Vallcarca shrugged indifferently. “So how can I be of assistance to His Majesty?” he asked.

The baron's grim, imperious visage did not indicate a desire to assist anybody, Mendoza thought, and explained a great deal about the proliferation of gibbets and whipping posts.

“I've come about the nuns,” he said. “I understand that the three suspects are from Belamar.”

“They are. But they aren't suspects. There is absolutely no doubt about their guilt. Two of them have been arrested. The wood-carver Péris has escaped—for now.”

“Could you tell me what happened exactly?”

The baron made no attempt to conceal his impatience as he explained that the two nuns had been accosted by the three Moriscos two days earlier on the road between the Convent of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the village of Todos Santos. The Moriscos had taken the women into the forest to where their animals were tethered and violated them before leaving them naked to dress themselves and make their way back to the convent. The local militia had pursued the three Moriscos trying to flee back into Cardona that same evening. Two of them had been riding on one mule, but Péris had been riding a horse, and he had managed to get some distance in front of them and reached Cardona, where he abandoned his animal and disappeared into the forest on foot. The militia were allowed to pursue fugitives in Cardona only on the public road, and they had been forced to abandon their pursuit. The two prisoners had been handed over to Commissioner Herrero and taken to the seigneurial prison in Villamayor.

“Have they confessed?” Mendoza asked.

“Not yet, but the sisters have identified them,” Vallcarca replied. “Their confessions will come soon enough, when they get to Zaragoza.”

“May I ask why the prisoners are being tried by the Inquisition rather than your own courts?”

The baron looked at him in mild astonishment. “Do you know what one of these savages said when they violated these poor women? ‘This will show you how Jesus was born.' These rapes were an attack on the faith, Licenciado. They aren't crimes for the seigneurial courts.”

“What was the Inquisition doing in Todos Santa?”

“Todos Santos is a Morisco village. The Holy Office was investigating reports of witchcraft and sorcery there. Naturally, I allowed it. I also allowed Commissioner Herrero to use the seigneurial prison in Villamayor for temporary incarceration of any prisoners.”

“From what I hear, the lords of Aragon are not all so willing to cooperate with the Holy Office.”

Vallcarca nodded. “Do you see that cross?” He pointed toward a red cross on a small gold star that hung on the wall behind him. “That is the cross of the Order of San Salvador created by His Majesty King Alfonso I of Aragon in the twelfth century to fight the Moors. It is now the symbol of the Order of the Collar, to which every generation of Vallcarcas has belonged. That sword”—he pointed toward a broadsword hanging horizontally above the fireplace—“belonged to the second Baron of Vallcarca, who fought with Fernando and Isabel during the conquest of the Moors in Granada throughout the whole ten years of the war. My family has always fought for the one true faith, Licenciado, and I will not allow my vassals to worship the sect of Muhammad just because they are good workers, even if others do.”

“You're referring to the Countess of Cardona?”

Vallcarca looked suddenly guarded. “I would not go that far. Let us say that the countess treats her vassals in a womanly way, because she believes that this will bring her Moriscos to the faith. But she is mistaken. Moriscos need a firm hand to keep them from straying. And here on my estates, they get one.”

“So I've seen.”

“You think me harsh? So does the countess. But what happened to these sisters is a consequence of too much benevolence, not harshness—on her estates, not mine. This must change if the peace of His Majesty's realms is to be preserved. I believe—I hope—that the countess will change once she is exposed to other influences and once the consequences of her actions become clear to her.”

“Will a marriage to your son facilitate this transformation?”

“You're well informed, Licenciado. We certainly hope that such a union will take place. But that is the countess's decision to make.”

“I understand that her father-in-law also has some influence in these matters.”

The baron's thick black eyebrows twitched momentarily before the closed, baleful expression returned. “I fail to see what this has to do with your business in these mountains.”

“You are right, Excellency. I have strayed from my purpose. I wonder if it would be possible to interview the two prisoners?”

“They are in Villamayor,” Vallcarca said. “They are under the Inquisition's jurisdiction, not mine. Will that be all, as I must attend to my family?”

Mendoza thanked Vallcarca, who escorted him back outside.

“I wish you luck with your investigation, Your Honor,” he said. “We all want to see Cardona pacified before the king's visit. But if you want to find this Redeemer, I suggest you look for Vicente Péris.”

“What makes you say so, my lord?”

“Because that's how he introduced himself to those poor women. And if you need extra men to catch him, I shall be only too pleased to provide them.”

Mendoza thanked him and asked him for directions to Villamayor. For the first time, Vallcarca seemed genuinely willing to help and called on one of his militiamen to guide them out on the road to the village. They had not
been riding long when they noticed a small group of men and horses gathered in an open field near the road. Some of them were wearing maroon tunics, but others were carrying sticks and drums that indicated they were beaters at a hunting party. Nearly all of them were standing in a circle watching what appeared to be a fight in progress. On closer inspection Mendoza saw that one man was lying on the ground, his yelps mingling with the curses and grunts of satisfaction coming from his assailant, who was kicking and beating him with the flat of his sword.

“What's going on here?” Mendoza shouted.

The man stopped what he was doing and looked up in surprise, his face twisted into an expression of anger and cruelty. “I am Rodrigo Vallcarca, and who in God's name are you?”

“Why are you beating this man?”

“This idiot is my servant and my vassal. He coughed when I was about to shoot a deer so that I missed my shot!”

“Well, you've beaten him enough,” Mendoza said.

“I will decide when he's had enough!” Vallcarca gave the man another savage kick in the stomach, and then Mendoza rode his horse directly into the circle, pushing Vallcarca back so quickly that he fell over. There were gasps of amazement from the spectators as Vallcarca scrambled to his feet and held up his sword.

“I'll kill you for that!” he yelled. “Get down from your horse!”

“You are raising your sword against an officer of the king,” Mendoza said. “And if I get down from my horse, it will be to place you under arrest. Now, leave this man alone. A servant should not be beaten for coughing.”

He rode away without waiting for a reply. Behind them he heard the sound of another blow, and he glanced around to see Vallcarca kicking the prone servant.

“Shall we go back and stop him, Don Bernardo?” Necker asked.

Mendoza shook his head. He had interfered enough already, and there were some things in these mountains that could not be put right. But
whatever benefits the union of the Vallcarca and Cardona families were intended to bring to the baron, he thought, this encounter with the baron's son made it clear why the Countess of Cardona was not keen to offer him her hand.

•   •   •

A
BOUT
TWENTY
MINUTES
LATER
, Vallcarca's militiaman pointed out Villamayor up ahead and turned back. When they reached the seigneurial jail, they were told that the Inquisition escort had left with the two prisoners half an hour previously on the road to Zaragoza. Mendoza decided to try to catch them, and they took out at a canter along the dusty road until they saw the inquisitorial cortege in front of them. The party consisted of a carriage and a cart bearing the two gagged and chained prisoners, accompanied by an escort of eight armed
familiares
on horses and mules. One of them was the same brutish creature with the squashed nose and the thick hands whom Mendoza had first seen in Zaragoza, who wheeled his horse and scowled at them.

“Stay back,” he ordered. “The Holy Office is escorting prisoners to Zaragoza.”

“I know,” Mendoza said. “I want to talk to them.”

“That is not permitted!”

Necker rode past him in front of the cortege, forcing it to come to a halt.

“Why are we stopping?” A tonsured head appeared in the carriage window as Mendoza rode alongside him.

“Commissioner Herrero?” Mendoza asked.

“Yes. And who are you?”

“Alcalde Mendoza, the king's special justice. I wish to speak to your prisoners.”

“You'll do no such thing! That is forbidden.”

“I'd like you to make an exception in this case.”

“Absolutely not. And you are obstructing the work of the Holy Office. You should go back, or I will report you to my superiors.”

Mendoza looked at the prisoners, who were sitting passively, their legs chained together and their arms tied behind their backs. Their gags were not unusual, since prisoners of the Holy Office were not permitted to talk to anyone after their arrest, but there were bruises on both their faces, and one of them looked as though he might be unconscious. Perhaps it was the heat, or the aching in his thigh, or the seemingly endless procession of people who he suspected were not telling him everything they knew, but Mendoza was not inclined to take no for an answer.

“I only want to ask them a few questions,” he said.

“You will ask them nothing!”

The
familiares
were gathering around the carriage and the prisoners now, with their hands poised on their swords and pistols. They were only the usual lay volunteers and assistants, but they looked as though they knew how to use their weapons, and Mendoza gestured to Necker to move away. As he watched the cortege hurtle down the road, he could not help feeling that his journey to Vallcarca had raised as many questions as it had answered. He had indeed confirmed that the three Moriscos had come from Belamar, but nothing that he'd heard so far had shed any light on what the Moriscos were doing in Vallcarca in the first place. If they wanted to rape nuns, there was no shortage of them in Cardona. Why would they go to the neighboring
señorio
to do it, at precisely the time when the Inquisition happened to be working in the vicinity?

There was one other source of information in Vallcarca that might shed light on these questions, and he asked some
labradores
who'd been watching the scene for directions to the Convent of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Twenty minutes later they rode through a patchwork of well-tended orchards and vegetable patches and knocked on the main door of the convent. A shutter drew back, and a pallid female face in a nun's habit appeared in the opening, her eyes widening with fear and amazement at the sight of them. Mendoza asked to see the mother superior, and she closed the shutter without a word. A few minutes later, they heard the faint sound of footsteps, and the
shutter opened once again to reveal a severe-looking old lady whose crinkled face was also entirely enclosed in a black wimple.

“I am Mother Superior Margarita,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Good afternoon, Reverend Mother. I am Alcalde Mendoza from the Royal Chancery in Valladolid. I'm here in connection with the attacks on your sisters.”

“That has already been investigated by the Inquisition.”

Mendoza suppressed his impatience. Was there anyone in this kingdom who did not think that he or she had the right to question his authority? “I understand that, but there are some questions I wish to ask the victims that relate to my own investigation. I believe others may be involved of whom the Inquisition is not aware, and I need to speak to the two sisters in order to establish this.”

“Absolutely out of the question. They are in no condition to talk to anyone. I will talk to you, but not here. Men are not allowed within these walls. Please wait.”

Mendoza stepped back, and a moment later the heavy door creaked open and Sister Margarita hobbled out, accompanied by the mouselike nun who had greeted them previously. Like him, Sister Margarita was carrying a stick, and she walked slowly and with obvious difficulty to a wooden bench overlooking the rows of fruit trees, where her companion stood attentively a few feet away from her.

“You may sit,” she said as she looked out somberly toward the men who were working in the fields and orchards. “This has been a terrible event for all of us, Licenciado. Most of our workers are Moriscos, and we have very good relations with them. Some of them have worked on our estates since they were children, and their fathers and grandfathers worked here before them. Now some of the sisters are saying we should hire only Old Christians.”

“Even though the perpetrators are from Cardona, not Vallcarca?” Mendoza asked.

“People are afraid, and fear breeds hatred. Some of the sisters are saying we should accept the baron's offer to use his militia to protect us. But until now we never needed protection. And some of the baron's methods are not in keeping with our Lord's teachings. Now, how can I help you?”