Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (72 page)

Valentine sighed. It seemed right, to see them standing there together. Turning away, he signaled for the others to follow him on down the beach, leaving Lily and Simon to grieve in privacy.

"Figured settin' foot here once would about do it fer me," one of the crew who'd sailed with Valentine Whitelaw for years since before the first voyage to this isle, said, glancing around nervously.

"Aye, once was enough fer me, too," a red-bearded sailor agreed.

"Reckon the Turk ain't all that pleased either," another commented, nodding to where the Turk stood, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his scimitar, the silver scabbard with its ornate engraving gleaming dangerously.

"Aye, reckon that jinni might be lingerin' nearby," one snickered a little too loudly, for he drew the Turk's eye.

"Well, maybe he's got reason to be watchful," another one advised.

"What ye mean?"

"Didn't ye see them tracks up close by them trees?"

"No, where?"

"Over there aways. Don't know what kind o' creature'd be makin' them," the one who spied them speculated while his mates grinned, albeit sickly, wondering if he were pulling their legs.

Their captain had been eyeing the cliffs in the distance. He glanced along their uneven face but couldn't see anything that fit Lily's description of the cave's opening. He felt the heat against the back of his neck and glanced upward. The sun was almost directly overhead now. He wanted to find that cave and retrieve the journal before the sun went down or before the weather worsened. He could see the clouds brewing to the south, growing darker and rising higher into the clear skies as they grew turbulent with wind and rain.

He hadn't heard Lily's approach until she was suddenly there beside him, staring at the cliff face. He glanced back, but Simon was still beneath the pine, kneeling now beside his father's grave.

"Do you think you can remember where the path is that leads to the cave?" he asked, startling both Lily and himself by the harshness of his voice.

"I don't know where it is," she finally said.

"Listen. We will make a path through there and walk along the headland toward the cliffs. Something of the path may remain, and I think you will find that you will begin to remember all kinds of details about the cave that you'd thought forgotten. It will come back to you. If you were not here, we wouldn't even have the slightest idea of where to look, despite your Tristram's directions," he told her, his voice confident and calming her fears.

"I've disappointed you. I've let everyone down. I've been so foolish, thinking I could return here and just walk right into that cave and get the journal for you," she berated herself.

"No, Lily, you haven't disappointed me. I never expected it would be easy, my dear," he said as he pushed through the thick foliage blocking their path.

Lily frowned, but continued to follow him. "What do you mean that you never expected it to be easy? And what directions did Tristram give you?" she demanded, growing suspicious, especially when she remembered what he'd just said about not knowing where to look at all if she hadn't been along, as if he'd known the directions she'd given him at the inn would prove worthless.

"You always intended to take me along, didn't you?" she demanded, humiliated now to think of the deceit he'd practiced by allowing her to think she'd outwitted him.

Valentine glanced back to see her face, no less stormy than the darkening skies to the south. "My dear, I was just playing the game you dared me to play, but by my own rules. I don't like to lose," he said unrepentantly.

"A game? That is all it has been to you? A game? Just another challenge?" Lily repeated, momentarily forgetting that she herself had fallen victim to that challenge.

"I had not planned on taking you at first," he admitted ignoring her charge. "I had thought to get the location of the cave from Tristram, and he was most obliging, but his directions did little to set my mind at ease. He would have had us on the banks of the Orinoco. Then, when you told me your directions, which were only a little clearer, I realized that I would have to take you with me. I could not risk sailing here and then not finding that journal."
"But I only told you
after
you'd given me your word of honor that I would be aboard the
Madrigal
when she sailed," Lily accused him. "You would have broken your word to me."

Valentine laughed, which fanned her anger even more. "I would not have broken my word, my dear. If you remember, I gave you my word that you would be aboard the
Madrigal
when she sailed. I did not say, however, for what duration or where you would be leaving the ship. Originally, I had planned for it to be at Falmouth. I intended to leave you at Ravindzara, with Tristram and Dulcie, where I thought you would be safe."

"You cheated! You knew what I meant," Lily told him, her cheeks flushed with the heat of anger.

"I also began to think that you would be safer aboard the
Madrigal
than anywhere else, even safer than at Ravindzara," he continued, undisturbed by her anger. "I did not think Sir Raymond would try to harm you again, but I could not in good conscience take that risk. He is a very vindictive man, and you have brought about his downfall. That, my dear, is something he will not forgive you for, even though you have done it most innocently. And"-
-
Valentine paused, not liking the thought that had decided him ultimately to bring Lily along
-
-"we only know of Sir Raymond's identity as one of the traitors. The names of the others, if there are any, might be quite a revelation. Sir
Raymond
, and many other Catholics, move in high circles; they are members of court and very influential. What if someone I have trusted is involved in this plot? I could not take the chance of leaving you behind in England and allowing you to fall into our enemy's hands. Right now, you are our only witness to Sir Raymond's attempt at murder. If the journal does not prove his guilt, then your testimony will be needed to convict him."

Lily fought the tears that threatened to fall. She was important only as a witness against Sir Raymond Valchamps. Valentine Whitelaw did not care beyond that. "A game. That is all it ever is for you," she said bitterly, stumbling slightly over a vine and shaking off the hand that had kept her from falling.

"A game? Perhaps, my dear," Valentine Whitelaw agreed, a strange expression on his hardened face, "but one of life and death. Never forget that, will you, Lily?" he requested.

Lily glanced away from him, unable to meet his gaze. It was while she stood there, staring along the cliff face, searching for something, that she saw the grotesque tree, its limbs bent out of shape and driven into tortuous angles by the winds that battled across the headland. She remembered now that the path curved around that tree, although she'd never remembered that until now, to wend along the headland until it came precariously close to a ravine that dropped straight down into the sea below. At one time, it must have been a cave much like the one that hid their treasure, only the roof had caved in long ago and the sea had surged into it, cutting a jagged fissure into the headland.

At that juncture, there were two paths, one led down toward the cove, while the other wove higher along the cliff, leading to the summit.

"We turn here and follow this path," Lily said, indicating a stony path that seemed to lead nowhere.

"Are you certain?" Simon demanded, having caught up to the party that had almost disappeared out of the cove. "There's another path that climbs over the headland there," he said, drawing everyone's attention t a dangerous-looking path of little more than rough-hewn stone steps too far apart to be easily followed. It led over the top of the headland before disappearing into the forest.

"No, that one only leads down to the beach on the far side, then around the curve of the shore. We very seldom used it. On the far side it is slippery from the waves that splash across it," Lily said. "I know now where the cave is. Watch your step, the path closely follows the cliff edge," she warned.

"Lead the way," Valentine Whitelaw said, no longer in doubt of finding the cave.

Sensing his confidence, Lily started along the narrow footpath along the cliff. Without hesitation, she turned toward the summit of the cliff, several of the crew wondering if they would come out into thin air when they reached it, then fall into the sea below, for the sound of the waves was too close for many of them to take more than one carefully placed step at a time.

Almost reaching the summit, Lily suddenly vanished, and those same crew
members
froze in their steps, believing the end was near unless they could retrace their steps back to the shore below.

But Valentine, who was just behind her, stepped between the rocks, the path narrowing even more until they were standing directly before the cliff, where only a stunted-looking pine grew and the edge sheered off alarmingly close. They had nowhere to go.

Lily couldn't help but smile at his disappointed expression, for he believed she had been mistaken after all.

Even though he'd been standing before her, gazing at her, he still could scarcely believe his eyes when Lily stepped behind the pine and disappeared into the solid face of the cliff.

"My God! Where'd she go?" Simon exclaimed, having come up in time to see Valentine standing there alone.

But Valentine Whitelaw was not worried. Grinning at Simon, he stepped behind the tree and disappeared.

Valentine felt the coolness engulfing him. He continued to stand just inside the entrance, his eyes unaccustomed to the dark, especially after the blinding brightness outside. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the shadowy confines of the cave, and a shaft of light shining down from an opening higher up lit the cave as if by candlelight.

He blinked slightly and stared across the cave to find Lily watching him. Beside her was a wooden chest. He could hear the sound of the sea as it surged into the cavery with the ebb and flow of the tide. And even in the filtered light, he could see the glint of water at the bottom of the sloping floor of the cave.

"You remembered, Lily."

He could see the smile that flickered over her face.

"How the devil did Basil get this chest in here?" he demanded, for it would have been no easy task for two men, much less one, to cart the heavy chest along that path.

Lily laughed softly, the sound echoing strangely through the cave.

"He took it apart and carried it into the cave in sections. Then he put it back together again. It took us weeks to haul the treasure inside," Lily told him, opening up the lid of the chest to reveal its startling contents.

"Ah, Basil," Valentine murmured, hearing Simon and the others entering the cave behind him as he stared down at the treasure.

"What an incredible place!" Simon breathed, awed by the curving rock
formation
arching above his head and in his haste nearly slipping on the dampness that coated the rock floor.

"Lookee 'ere! 'Tis a fortune!" cried one of the crew, his mouth dropping open as he came to stand by the chest, the glint of gold and silver unmistakable even in the shadowy light of the cave.

"And I thought we'd made a fine haul when we dove for the rest of the treasure out there in the bay. Must o'been the king o' Spain's biggest treasure ship that went down!"

"Emeralds and pearls. Lord, this one be as big as an egg!"

"Ooohwee! Lookee 'ere, 'tis a chain o' gold links. Must be a king's ransom in these two links alone," the sailor said, weighing the length of chain across his palm. "How we goin' to get all o' this outa here?" he suddenly demanded, crestfallen at the thought that they might have to leave it here for old Neptune to guard, because there was no way he was going to carry this chest down that path. "What d'ye think, Cap'n?" he asked.

But Valentine Whitelaw wasn't listening. He had found the journal.

Francisco Esteban Villasandro waited nervously, wondering how he would find the courage to carry out his father's orders. Although Don Pedro had placed his son in command of the landing party, he had sent along one of the ship's officers to advise the young man who had yet to prove himself a man by his father's inflexible standards.

But, Francisco though, at least he was on shore and had been able to keep his dinner down for one night. And sleeping beneath the stars, with a fire burning brightly against the darkness and the frightening, savage cries sounding from the forest, he had found a certain measure of peace and the fortitude to tell his father that he did not wish to captain one of his father's galleons. He wished to become a priest and devote his life to the Church. He was not a soldier. And no matter how much his father wished otherwise, he was not and never could be a man of the sword.

Upon their return to Madrid, he would tell his father that he wished to
join
a seminary and study for the priesthood. He had spent many anguished hours in deliberation, and, after telling his pleased mother and their priest of his decision, he had been unusually even-tempered since receiving a missive from a dust-stained courier. Then, before he could even broach the subject, his father had received another important message and hurried off to answer a royal summons. Two days later and hardly a week after his father had returned from a voyage to England, the Estrella
D'Alba,
with a small fleet of ships accompanying her, had set sail for the Indies.