VOYAGE OF STRANGERS (4 page)

He started toward her, but the other sailor called out to him. He turned back toward the Chapel, clearly reluctant to do so, and was swept out of sight by the crowd.

Rachel looked around for her apple, which she had dropped without realizing it when Diego caught sight of her. It had rolled some distance away, and a hound far more elegantly groomed than Rachel herself was already sniffing at it. As she shrugged and stood wondering what to do next, fingers like a band of steel clamped down on her arm, while her attacker’s other hand seized her roughly by the collar.

“Got you!”

With
a cry, she looked up into the triumphant face of Don Rodrigo Maldonado.

“Don’t cry out!” He drew her further into the shadows as the courtiers streamed past, intent on crowding into the Chapel Royal with the King and Queen. “No one will pay the slightest attention. I might even beat a page dressed like an urchin without drawing any gentleman’s censure. How would you like that, Señorita Mendoza?”

Rachel gasped. Only this morning, her aunt had presented her to him as Raquel Mendes. She twisted and squirmed to no avail.

Don Rodrigo laughed.

“Oh, yes,” he said, wrenching her arm cruelly behind her back. “Do you think I am stupid? You cannot escape, little girl. I could have you dragged away in chains right now. If I choose, you might never see sunlight again.”

“What do you want of me?” Rachel panted.

She could feel her bowels turn to water and feared she might disgrace herself. If she screamed, would Diego come to her aid? The sound of the Latin chanting, floating out faintly into the audience hall, must fill the ears of everyone listening in the Chapel to the exclusion of all other sound. Even if he heard, he must not try to rescue her, or this evil Maldonado would denounce them both.

Don Rodrigo watched the play of expression across her face as she came to this conclusion with a smile upon his own face more frightening than his scowl.

“You are no fool either,” he observed. “Now, stop fighting me, and I will tell you what I plan for you. Oh, I will not denounce you or your brother—yet.”

Rachel managed not to gasp again, but Maldonado felt her tremble.

“Ah, so he is your brother. You have confirmed my guess. See? You are already cooperating with me, and it is not so bad, is it?”

“You cannot touch him!” Rachel said. “He is the Admiral’s favorite, as the Admiral is the Queen’s.”

“Quiet!” He slapped her cheek, not hard, but no one had ever raised a hand to her. “I can bring down your brother and the upstart Columbus himself if I so choose. There are plenty to take his place. What about the Pinçons of Palos, who brought the Pinta safely to harbor and have no love for your Admiral? What about my brother Melchior, who longs to distinguish himself? But never mind. You can know nothing of these matters.”

“Then let me go!”

He slapped her cheek again, smiling.

“You will be docile, and your docility will stand surety for your brother’s safety. Why should I send such a tender morsel to the
auto da fe
, when it might be served up as a wedding feast?”

“I have nothing,” she croaked, dry-mouthed. “I am worth nothing to you.”

“Did you not know?” His tone was silken as a poisoned posset. “It is well known the Jews are shrewd. What interest could your pious Christian aunt have in you, unless she had helped to save your dowry from the wreck of your family’s fortunes?”

The carved doors of the Chapel Royal opened as a fanfare announced the Sovereigns’ return to the great hall. With a sob, Rachel wrenched herself from Don Rodrigo’s hands. She caught sight of Diego through a blur of tears. He opened his mouth, willing to betray them both out of concern for her. He must not. She whirled, tucked her head down, and fled.

Chapter Three

Barcelona, April 18, 1493

Until the moment I caught sight of Rachel, I had been fully occupied in a tumult of emotions: enjoyment the pageantry of the Court, admiration of Admiral Columbus’s ability to take the full attention of his Sovereigns in stride, and anxiety lest my charges, which included many brightly colored parrots as well as the Taino, embarrass us through some innocent but unseemly behavior.

When we reached the Alcazar, we found the Admiral pacing back and forth in the outer courtyard, his plain brown cloak whipping in the wind. He hurried to greet us as the armored guards uncrossed their halberds and let us pass into the great hall. It was vaulted, with clerestory window panels high in the walls above a colonnade letting in shafts of sunlight that fell at random on the women’s headdresses and jewels and glinted off the gentlemen’s swords.

King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella were seated on great carved and gilded chairs on a raised dais at the far end of the hall. Any who approached them must do so at a stately pace, bowing low. I had rehearsed the Taino in bowing, but they had difficulty mastering the art and clearly thought it ridiculous, bobbing up and down in quick jerks from the waist like robins pecking the ground. 

Admiral Columbus strode forward with no regard for protocol, his white hair flying and cloak billowing with the wind of his passage. Reaching the foot of the dais, he knelt before the Sovereigns. None of us who followed Columbus had ever seen him kneel before, except to God. Rather than bowing his head, he flung his arms wide as if to say, “Here I am! I have done for you what I promised.”

“We welcome you, Don Christopher.” The Queen held out a plump hand, stiff with rings, for him to kiss.

“It is my honor to serve your Gracious Majesties,” the Admiral said, “and Our Savior as well. Then I am indeed confirmed in my honors as Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Viceroy and Governor of the lands I have found and all that I may yet discover?”

There was a rustle among the courtiers at this bold opening. I saw a prelate draped in red, no doubt some great prince of the Church, turn his eyes heavenward. 

“Yes, yes, Don Christopher,” the King said. “You are confirmed in all your honors and preferments.” He added in a deep rumble, “Let us hope that you make as good speed to the Indies on your next voyage as you do in reminding us of our promises.”

“I plan to accomplish much more in the future, Majesties,” the Admiral said. “My discoveries will extend your realms and bring many souls to Our Savior.”

“Your thoughts march with ours.” The Queen raised her voice. “Europe needs trade. The Indies promise trade beyond anything Spain has known. And with trade come prosperity, advancement, and opportunity for those bold enough to take the risk, as our good Columbus has, of leaving the familiar behind.”

The courtiers murmured. She raised a hand to silence them, light flashing on her rings.

“We must bring the savages to the love of Jesus Christ Our Savior,” the Queen said, “To do so, we must treat them well and lovingly. Further, we must find gold. Our ships will sail the Ocean Sea like winged treasure chests, and other nations will fear our might. Nor will the people of Aragon and Castile suffer in this enterprise. We will settle the new lands with good Christian farmers and artisans as well as soldiers and sailors.”

The Queen motioned the Admiral to stand beside her. His face blazed with triumph. This was indeed his moment of glory.

“Now we would see the treasures Don Christopher has brought us and hear more of his travels.” She settled herself more comfortably in her chair. “Tell me,” she said, “do the rivers really run with gold?”

I grew both weary and restless, standing idly in attendance while the great ones talked. My gaze roamed the crowd. I recognized no one but Don Rodrigo, who acknowledged me with a curt nod but did not approach me. Finally, a trumpet sounded and the Sovereigns rose.

“We will hear a Te Deum in the Chapel Royal,” the King announced. 

I was wondering whether I could possibly avoid this Christian observance when I caught sight of Rachel, a boyish figure in tunic, hose, and oversized cap balanced like a giant mushroom above a face stamped with alarm and defiance. 

The little wretch! Where had Rachel obtained those clothes? If I could have laid hands on her, I would have wrung her neck. But I could not abandon my duty. Nor did I wish to compound Rachel’s foolhardiness by calling attention to her in this public place, in the presence of armed men and prelates and royalty itself, not to mention the Admiral.

I looked back once more, but at that moment, a red and green parrot deposited an unwelcome gift upon my head. By the time I had dealt with that, she had vanished.

It was some time before the Indians and I were allowed to depart. I led the Taino toward our lodging through streets thronged with greater crowds than ever, as all Barcelona wanted to see them. I was glad of the protection of soldiers from the Alcazar as well as the sailors assigned to escort duty along with me. If not for them, I believe the people of the city would have ripped the very ornaments from their arms, ears, and necks. A couple of loose women made as if to strip them of their clouts, demanding to see if they were made the same as European men.

Cristobal, the mildest of men among a people of remarkable peacefulness, entered into a tugging contest with a stout woman who tried to take his cloak, whether for her own use or merely as a memento of the occasion, I could not say. A soldier with a halberd ended the bout before it could be decided and returned the cloak to Cristobal. The Taino hugged it tight around his body, scowling. I started to tease him about Spanish ladies’ interest in his person. But I broke off when I realized that he was shivering. His teeth chattered, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. Although he complained of chill, his skin was burning to the touch. 

Our way back led through a busy market. Had I not been worried about both Cristobal and Rachel, I would have enjoyed the colorful throng, after spending most of the past year on shipboard and in lands inhabited by more birds than people. I might have lingered to watch street jugglers and gleemen ply their trade and fingered woolen shawls and baubles for Rachel. Though clearly in a hurry and fully occupied with my charges, I was importuned to give alms to a beggar and bet on a cockfight. I hoped to pass the stall of an herb woman who might have such simples as willow bark and yarrow to ease Cristobal’s fever, but saw none. By the time we neared our lodging, all of the Taino were shivering and coughing. I would have to postpone my reckoning with Rachel.

What would become of my sister? Did the silly girl not realize she might be tortured and killed if she were exposed as a Jew? I must find someone to escort her to Italy. She could not travel alone, and I could not take her there myself. My destiny lay to the west, under the Admiral’s soaring wing. Nor did I wish to confide her to strangers. Could her masquerade have been prompted by some harebrained scheme to travel to Firenze as a boy, or worse, to accompany me to the Indies? If so, I must nip that scheme in the bud. I had unwisely told her that she was of an age with some of the gromets. I had underestimated my sister’s capacity for seeking trouble. 

By the time I had all the Taino bedded and breathing more easily, it was too late to call on Doña Marina. In truth, I was exhausted by the long day and relieved to be spared a confrontation with my rebellious young sister till the morning. But I was not to enjoy the full night’s sleep I craved. I was dreaming I stood in the crow’s nest of the poor, lost Santa Maria, my
tallit
whipping in the wind and a
sh’ma
, a crying out to the Lord, on my lips, when a banging that I at first took for the ship’s cannon woke me. I started out of sleep to hear a series of heavy thumps on the wooden door of the chamber.

Chapter Four

Barcelona, April 19, 1493

Thanks to the poppy syrup I had doled out, none of the Taino wakened as the banging continued. I thought first of the Inquisition, but as I assembled my scattered wits, I realized the pounding sounded like that of a heavy fist rather than a club or a metal weapon. Indeed, by now the Inquisition’s soldiers, if it were they, would have kicked in the door. As I reached hastily for my breeches and my knife, I heard Rachel’s tremulous voice.

“Diego! Diego, wake up! Wake up and let us in!”

I unlatched the door and flung it open. Rachel tumbled into the room. Disheveled and tearstained, she threw herself into my arms. Thanks be to Ha’shem, she was dressed as a girl. Over her head, I regarded a very young man in livery who stood on the threshold, his raised fist still doubled. I raised my eyebrows at him. He lowered his hand, but only to place it on the pommel of his own dagger. 

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

The boy cleared his throat. His combative stance was clearly born of bravado rather than confidence. His glance at Rachel betrayed that he was besotted with her. A growl rose in my own throat. My little sister needed no champion but me, and she was far too young for suitors, especially one so ineligible.

Rachel raised her head from my chest.

“You need not sound so fierce, Diego. This is Javier, one of my aunt’s footmen. He insisted on escorting me when he could not dissuade me from going out.”

I clutched at my hair with both hands. 

“You had better come in, Javier,” I said. “Now, Rachel, what is the meaning of this nonsense?”

Rachel bounced onto a wooden stool near the hearth, where coals still glowed.