Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (3 page)

“Rest assured you will have my most hearty thanks, Sir Basil, for the venture you are about to set out upon for the good of England,” Elizabeth told him, holding out her hand for him to kiss.

For the good of England
, that was what Sir Basil had to keep repeating to himself as they’d crossed the Atlantic. Now, as he stood on deck watching the sunrise, he idly wondered whatever would he do when they reached Hispaniola. He was not a spy. He could translate Greek and Latin better than he would be able to decipher any Spanish missives he might stumble across. And only too obviously
stumble
it would, he feared.

“Such a beautiful morning following a storm should bring a smile to your face, Sir Basil.”

“Indeed madam, it is a glorious morning, and all the more beautiful for your presence,” Sir Basil greeted Doña Magdalena, who had come up on deck and now stood beside him, with a courtly bow and phrase.

Doña Magdalena smiled archly, “Were not Geoffrey watch
ing
and listening from above, I would suspect you of a flirtation, Sir Basil,” she said.

“Doña Magdalena, truly, I meant no such thing,” Sir Basil said in order to quickly disabuse her of that idea.

“You think I am not beautiful enough to flirt with?” she asked, looking offended before she hid her expression behind a feather fan she expertly wielded.

“Madam, please, you misunderstand me,” Sir Basil said in growing concern, “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.” He did indeed speak the truth. Doña Magdalena, dressed in a gown of gold-patterned green brocade with a richly figured underskirt worked in gold threads, was breathtakingly lovely. A fiery emerald dangled from several long ropes of gleaming pearls. A girdle of precious stones and golden chains sparkled around her throat and framed the dark red curls crowned with a heart-shaped lace headdress.

“Sir Basil, I had no idea you felt that way about my wife. What will Lady Elspeth have to say when she learns of your indiscretion?” Geoffrey Christian called down from above.

“No, really, ‘tis not true. I—“ Sir Basil began, then, hearing their laughter, realized that both Magdalena and Geoffrey had been making sport of him.

“Dear Basil,” Doña Magdalena said, a smile of genuine affection curving her lips as she stared up at him, for Sir Basil was a tall man who often had to stoop when in conversation if he intended to catch what was said. “Will you never learn not to be quite so serious a gentleman?”

“I fear not, madam,” Sir Basil admitted, very seriously.

“Not at all? Hmm? Not even a little?” Doña Magdalena teased him while watching him carefully, for no one could be so grave.

Sir Basil laughed softly, for he could not resist her charms. “Perhaps just a little, but only when on board the
Arion
. I do have a reputation to live up to in London.”

“There, did I not tell you, Magdalena, that we would make a changed man of Basil by the end of this voyage?” Geoffrey reminded her as he and Lily carefully began to make their way down from the rigging.

“Now, if only I had the other Whitelaw brother on board. . .” the captain of the
Arion
speculated, allowing the rest of his sentiment to remain unspoken, which left Basil in little doubt of what Geoffrey Christian’s influence on the spirited, adventurous brother would have been. He was thankful that he had not had to witness the many years of gentlemanly training go completely unheeded while Geoffrey Christian taught Valentine the finer points of being a successful privateer.

“So, I’ve been betrayed, have I, and he signed on with Drake, eh, Basil? Preferred that Devonshire sea dog to me? ‘Sdeath, but there’s no loyalty among the thievin’ rascals,” Geoffrey Christian complained good-naturedly, for he had supped with Drake on the eve of their departure.

“He was most disappointed that he could not sail with us, Geoffrey,” Basil called up to the captain. “But he could not break his word to Drake.”

“Nor would I have wished him to. Wouldn’t want a man who could break his word as easily as that on board the
Arion
. Besides, ‘twill serve us well having those hungry sea pups sailing these waters. The Spaniards will be too busy worrying about what mischief the
Swan
and her hot-blooded young crew is about to give us more than a passing thought.”

Basil Whitelaw frowned. “You think they will find trouble?”

Geoffrey Christian grinned, and Basil would have sworn that his friend was envious of the
Swan
’s chances of crossing bows with a Spanish galleon or two.

“You needn’t worry about Valentine,” Geoffrey finally said, relenting when he caught sight of his friend’s worried expression. “Valentine is sailing with Drake, and he’s learned his trade well. One day there’ll be none finer, mark my words. Besides Valentine reminds me of myself when I was that age. Bold as brass, he is, but then he has every reason to be; he’s clever, that one. Inherited that from you. He’ll be captain of his own ship soon enough,” Geoffrey predicted.

That hardly set
Basil Whitelaw’s mind at ease.

“You worry too much about that one, Basil,” Geoffrey advised.

But Doña Magdalena met Basil’s look of concern with one of understanding. “There is little you can do, Sir Basil, once the sea gets into their blood. You must just continue to have faith. We have no say in what is meant to happen. Valentine could live peacefully in the city, perhaps become a wealthy merchant,” Doña Magdalena said
, then
shrugged. Then one day the plague comes, and he is dead. As long as he is happy, content. Is that not the best way to live a life?”

Basil could not fault her reasoning, for she was right, but still he could not stop worrying about Valentine. There were so many years between them, close to fifteen, that he had always felt more like a father to Valentine than an elder brother.

“Mama! Mama! Look at me! I’ve touched the stars, and now I’m going to touch the sun!” Lily called down excitedly to her mother as Magdalena calmly watched her husband and daughter make their way down out of the rigging.

Sir Basil stared in amazement at Magdalena’s serene face. Not once had she caught her breath in fear or called out anxiously to Geoffrey. Feeling Basil’s eyes on her, Magdalena smiled, and Basil would have sworn that she nearly reached out and patted his hand as if trying to comfort him for
his
fears.

“Her shoe?” she asked, noticing the small object Sir Basil still held in his hand.

“Yes, I thought it was a cannon ball when it landed on my shoulder.”

Magdalena chuckled in appreciation. “There, you are already beginning to laugh at yourself. But not too much, we wouldn’t wish Her Majesty to ask you to become the court jester when we return to London.”

Sir Basil laughed, then seeing Geoffrey slip slightly as he neared the deck, he asked with genuine curiosity, “Do you not worry?”

Doña Magdalena frowned, then she smiled when she caught his meaning as he continued to stare nervously at the pair coming down. “Geoffrey would not have taken her up there unless he knew she would be safe. He would never do anything to put any of us in harm. His own safety perhaps he is careless of, but never another’s, and especially not his daughter’s. If he had thought she would be afraid, then he would not have taken her aloft. But Lily is Geoffrey’s daughter. I do not think she is afraid of anything. We debated bringing Lily along, but I could not bear to leave her alone in England, nor would she have allowed us to. I am certain she would have stowed away rather than have been left behind. Besides, I would like my mother and father to see my daughter. I am very proud of her and of my marriage. I want them to see that I am so very happy. That I have been blessed.”

Sir Basil remained silent. “You must be looking forward to returning home, Doña Magdalena.”

“Home?” Doña Magdalena shook her head. “I am looking forward to seeing my mother. I have missed her greatly, Sir Basil. I have also missed my father. He is a good man even if he is not a very forgiving one. I have also been lonely without my sister to confide in. We were a close family at one time. There was much love among us. But my home is now in England with my husband.” Magdalena said firmly, and Sir Basil believed her. “Hispaniola holds treasured memories for me,
sí
, but not memories of longing or regret because I am no longer there. When I spent my first winter in England, I thought I would not live to see the spring; so cold and dark and strange it was. I could not understand half of what was said to me, but somehow, with Geoffrey’s love and cheerful manner, I survived. Now, I actually find that I miss the cool rains and the mists. I think I would also find that I miss the harsh tongue of the English. Geoffrey too
k
great pains to teach me how to speak proper English, although he says he learned more of my language than I did of his.” Magdalena laughed, then grew serious. “I miss Highcross. And you may believe me when I say this, Sir Basil. I look forward to returning home.”

Basil Whitelaw, reluctant spy and homesick traveler, nodded his agreement, for he could not have put it more succinctly.

It is the stars,

The stars above us, govern our conditions.

S
hakespeare

Chapter Two

S
triking
her colors
and topsails as a sign of courtesy and nonaggression to the Spanish authorities in Santo Domingo, the
Arion
sailed peacefully into the busy harbor at the mouth of the Rio Ozama. Half a dozen three- and four-masted galleons were riding at anchor when the English ship closed with the land and, having given the Spanish ships a wide berth, let go her anchor. Several of the galleons were riding light, while others were being refitted. Their cargoes of wine, olives, and cooking oil, clothing, household items, and necessities not to be found in the New World had been unloaded. Other galleons were surrounded by smaller boats, their crews busy hauling on blocks of sugar. The casks joined the rest of the cargo carefully stored in the ships’ holds, where bales of indigo, tobacco, cacao, and hardwoods; chests of silver and gold; pearls from the oyster beds off the coast of Venezuela; emeralds from mines high in the mountains of Columbia; and exotic birds and animals from the jungles of Guiana and Panama would further entice merchants and adventurers alike to seek their fortunes in the New World. The cargoes safely stored aboard, the galleons would sail for Havana, where they would join the treasure fleet assembled of heavily laden ships from Cartagena, Nombre de Dios, Veracruz, and other ports along the Main for the long journey home.

For a moment, Geoffrey Christian observed the ships with a gleam in his eye, then he shrugged, for there would be other fleets sailing for Seville that he and his crew could raid. For now, he would bide his time and graciously welcome aboard the port officials who would soon be swarming over his ship. Fortunately, since there was an old score to be settled, Don Pedro Enrique de Villasandro had not become the next governor of Hispaniola, and Magdalena’s second cousin was a high-ranking customs officer in Santo Domingo; he would see that they received no undue attention and were not unnecessarily detained in getting ashore.

Built on the west bank of the estuary, with a fortified wall for protection, Santo Domingo was a city of broad avenues lined with stately buildings and tall palms. The homes of the wealthy were two-storied, whitewashed stucco mansions built around center courtyards and gardens, the columned galleries, arched windows and iron entrance gates reflecting the Moorish influence of the Old World.

Warehouses and government offices crowded along the river front, and a plaza with a cathedral, a mission, and priests’ quarters occupied a place of honor in the center of town. Near the river’s mouth were the fort and the governor’s residence, and La Calle de las Damas, a wide thoroughfare, led into the heart of the city, where plazas with shops and businesses and small chapels were located. Santo Domingo had once been the capital of the Spanish empire in the New World; the establishment of a hospital and university had helped it to remain more than a barely civilized colonial outpost after the capital had been moved to Cartagena.

Casa del Montevares, the home Magdalena had not seen since she had sailed for Spain over seven years earlier, was as grand as any wealthy hidalgo’s home in Seville or Madrid. Thick walls and tiled floors repelled the heat, while high arched ceilings and long window allowed the cooling breezes to circulate throughout the house. When storms raged, heavy shutters could be pulled tight against the winds and rains, but usually the windows remained unshuttered both day and night.

Although his shoulders were stooped slightly, as if from great weariness rather than age, Don Rodrigo was still a very proud man as he stood on the bottom step of the great staircase in the entrance hall of Casa del Montevares when Magdalena and her family arrived.

Geoffrey Christian, one of his hands clasped tightly by his daughter as she stared about her in wonder, his other had resting lightly on his sword hilt, eyed the stern-visaged Spaniard and thought that some things never changed. Don Rodrigo still looked the disapproving father who would never forgive his daughter for having married against his wishes. Geoffrey hadn’t missed the arrogant lifting of Don Rodrigo’s bearded chin when he caught sight of the heathen Englishmen entering his home, and in that instant Geoffrey had known that Don Rodrigo had hoped his daughter would return home unaccompanied by her family. Watching Magdalena’s uncertainty as she greeted her father, Geoffrey wondered if perhaps they all had not made a mistake in coming. It was only too obvious by Don Rodrigo’s curt nod to his daughter, who had unconsciously held out her arms to him when she had seen him, that the stiff-necked old gentleman wasn’t about to forgive and forget.

However, Geoffrey hadn’t missed Don Rodrigo’s dark eyes lingering on his daughter’s face once or twice when he thought himself unobserved, and Geoffrey would have sworn that Don Rodrigo’s thin-lipped mouth twitched just slightly when Lily walked up to the Spaniard and brazenly demanded a kiss from her
abuelo
, her words spoken in perfect Spanish perhaps as surprising to her grandfather as had been the request.

Don Rodrigo remained imperiously silent and apparently unmoved as he stared down at his granddaughter for the first time.

Magdalena held her breath, more concerned for her daughter now than she had been when she as Basil had watched Lily balancing on Geoffrey’s lap when he had taken her high into the ship’s rigging.

“I do not think we have been properly introduced,” Don Rodrigo said sternly, for this small replica of Magdalena needed to be taught some manners. She was an impudent little monkey and apparently had never been taught to show proper respect for elders.

Lily frowned slightly, as if giving his words careful consideration, then she nodded, “Very well, sir. I am Lily Francisca Christian. You are Don Rodrigo Francisco Esteban de Cabrion y Montevares. Now I know you and you know me. Are you going to give me a kiss?”

Don Rodrigo seemed taken aback by her smooth recitation of his full name. As she continued to stand there with her hands planted firmly on her hips, staring up at him with incredibly bright green eyes, he bowed courteously. “Lily
Francisca
,” he said, lingering with pleasure on the Spanish name, for it showed him that his daughter had not completely forgotten her heritage. He felt an impatient tug on the richly decorated silk of his slashed breeches and was reminded of his duty. Bending low, he met his granddaughter’s steady gaze as she held her face up to his expectantly and unflinchingly. Lily was unaware that her grandfather was a strict disciplinarian and might have slapped her soft cheek for having been so disrespectfully forward. But Don Rodrigo, as he continued to meet that bold yet innocent stare, could not deny his own flesh and blood. “
Mi dulce batata peque
ña
,” he murmured as he kissed the rose-petal smooth cheek held up so ingenuously.

Lily giggled. “
¡Batata
!” she squealed, repeating the word that Magdalena remembered as an endearment her father had been fond of calling her when she’d been Lily’s age. “I’m not a sweet potato! I eat sweet potatoes,” she said with another giggle.

“It would be wise to remember that
bad
little sweet potatoes often get cooked and eaten,” Don Rodrigo advised her as Lily’s mouth dropped open in amazement.

“But you said I was your sweet little sweet potato,” Lily reminded him as she tucked her hand in his confidingly. “Papa says they are the true treasure from
the
New World, and he’d rather capture a ship with a hold full of sweet potatoes than one with a hold full of gold.”

Don Rodrigo drew breath to speak then glanced over at Magdalena, a helpless look on his face. “Already she flirts outrageou
sly. You taught her Spanish?!
he asked. “You were allowed to do this?” he continued, his meaning obvious as his gaze moved to include the tall figure of Geoffrey Christian.

“
Sí, mi padre
.”

“You may still believe that I stole your daughter from you, Don Rodrigo, but I never intended to steal her heritage from her. Although circumstances have brought about a certain heightening of hostilities between our countries, my daughter has been taught to have no shame of her Spanish blood and to be proud of all of her ancestors,” Geoffrey stated, those pale green eyes of his, so like his daughter’s, unshadowed by deception. Don Rodrigo could not doubt his English son-in-law’s word, for did not his granddaughter speak her mother’s native tongue?

“
¿Padre? Mi—
“

Magdalena did not have to finish her question, for her father knew what she had been reluctant to ask. “Your mother still lives. You have arrived in time to comfort her with your presence, he admitted, then turned his attention to the other Englishman darkening his door, a less than cordially raised eyebrow questioning the man’s presence in Casa del Montevares. “I do not believe we have been introduced,
señor?
” he inquired in a tone that left little doubt that had he his wish they would continue to remain strangers.

Basil Whitelaw still stood hesitantly near the great door. He had been uncertain of Geoffrey Christian’s welcome, much less his own when Don Rodrigo learned he
’d
come as special envoy from Elizabeth, but now he stepped forward and bowed deeply and deferentially to the Spaniard. With a fine flourish, he removed a stiff piece of parchment from the top of a packet he carried tucked beneath his arm. Basil Whitelaw handed the letter to Don Rodrigo. It was folded and affixed with melted wax, which bore the stamped impression of the royal seal of Elizabeth.

Don Rodrigo was startled, for who in England could possibly be writing to him? When he recognized the royal arms displayed so boldly on the letter that he, a loyal subject of Phillip II, not held so gingerly in his hand, Sir Basil thought the Spaniard was going to drop it like a burning coal.

“
Madre de Dios
,” Don Rodrigo muttered, turning pale as he fingered the high, stiff ruff about his neck. It suddenly felt much tighter than usual.

With Her Majesty’s sincerest compliments, Don Rodrigo,” Basil Whitelaw said, urging the Spaniard to open the missive from the queen of England.

With a shaking hand, Don Rodrigo broke the seal and opened the folded sheet of foolscap. His expression was disbelieving as he stared down at the elaborate signature of Elizabeth.

“Her Majesty has instructed me to extend to you and your family her deepest sympathies and personal wishes for a quick recovery for Doña Amparo. Her Grace takes very seriously the welfare of her subjects, and she was most distressed learn of Doña Magdalena’s unhappiness concerning the ill health of her mother. Without hesitation, and indeed I speak from firsthand knowledge for I was present at the meeting between her Majesty and Geoffrey Christian, her Grace gladly granted him leave to travel to Hispaniola,” Basil Whitelaw said with all of the smoothness of a born diplomat, which meant he only told Don Rodrigo what he needed to know and did not go on to mention the names of the other two gentlemen present at the meeting. “I am here, at her Grace’s request, personally to lend support to Doña Magdalena and her family, and, on behalf of Queen Elizabeth, I hereby offer my services to you and your family should the occasion arise.

“Ple
ase understand, D
on Rodrigo, that I do this not only because my queen has requested it, but because Doña Magdalena has become a dear friend of my family.”

“Lady Elspeth, Sir Basil’s wife, has become my dearest friend,
Padre
. They have welcomed me into their home and given me their friendship when I had no friends,” Doña Magdalena said.

Sir Basil smiled. “It has always been our privilege. However, Doña Magdalena no longer is friendless. She has become one of Her Majesty’s favorites at court. In fact, your daughter, Don Rodrigo, had the very great honor of being hostess to Queen Elizabeth and her court when they visited Highcross Court last year. Seldom have I seen or enjoyed such entertainment as was provided for Her Grace’s pleasure. Several times I heard Her Majesty compliment Doña Magdalena on her gracious hospitality, declaring never had she eaten so well. She especially enjoyed the spicy sauces that Doña Magdalena seems to prepare with such excellence. You can be very proud of Doña Magdalena, Don Rodrigo,” Sir Basil said, surprised by his own loquacity but thinking i
t was about time the imperious D
on heard a few truths about the honor his daughter had brought to his own family’s name as well as to Geoffrey Christian’s.

But Don Rodrigo surprised Sir Basil with his answer. “I would have expected nothing less from a daughter of mine. She is a Montevares, Sir Basil. She knows her duty. Now, I have been neglectful of my duties as host. You must be fatigues from your journey. Ana will show you to your rooms,” Don Rodrigo said, indicating the maid who had quietly entered the hall and now stood awaiting her master’s orders, her head bowed. “Magdalena, I will take you to see your mother now. Ana, take the gentlemen and Francisca to the rooms that have been prepared for their visit. I will have some refreshment sent up,” he added. The maid, however, remained unmoving, and he had to repeat his order more sharply, “Ana!” he said again.

Finally, she curtsied and risked a quick glance at the two strangers. Her eyes were filled with fear, for she had never met Englishmen. She had heard that they were devils spawned of a heathen land, and here was her dear, sweet Magdalena married to one of the most notorious. Still even Ana had to admit that Magdalena had never looked more beautiful. Bewitchment. That was what had happened. Her poor Magdalena had been bewitched and her soul was no longer her own, Ana thought, crossing herself before she moved any closer to Geoffrey Christian. He did seem harmless enough, though, as he lifted his daughter into his arms, tickling her beneath the chin in response to the secret she whispered in his ear.