Lion Triumphant

by Philippa Carr

  “We shall converse in your barbaric tongue,” he said, “for I am acquainted with it.”

  “That will be an advantage,” I replied, “for I know only a few words of your savage one.”

  “You will not indulge in useless vituperation. It will serve you ill.”

  “I am a prisoner here. I know that. You can hold me here I have no doubt, but you cannot force me to silence or to speech.”

  “You will learn grace and courtliness here. You will learn that pointless badinage will help you not at all.”

  I was irritated by his habit of saying, “You will do this and that.” He made it sound like a command. I had the impression that he was stressing the fact that I was in his power and would be forced to obey him. It frightened me. There was something cold and implacable about him.

  “We will eat now, and afterward we will talk. I will then explain what is expected of you.”

  He clapped his hands and servants appeared.

  They carried hot dishes, which they placed on the table. We were served with some sort of fish.

  It smelled good after salt meat and beans and biscuits in which there were very often weevils.

  “We call this calamares en su tinta,” he told me. “You will enjoy it.”

  I did, marveling that I could eat with such enjoyment in such a situation and strange company.

  He talked of the food of the countryside. “You will enjoy it when you have grown accustomed to it. Taste is a matter of cultivation. Custom plays a large part in what we enjoy.”

  A kind of pork followed, served with tiny green vegetables which I had not seen before. “Garbanzos con patas de cerdo,” he told me. “You will repeat it.”

  I obeyed.

  “Your accent shocks me,” he said. “It is unharmonious.”

  “You could not expect one of my barbaric tongue to speak yours well,” I retorted.

  “You speak with wisdom,” he said.

  “Then I have at last won your approval.”

  “You will learn that words can be wasteful. You will eat and after that we will talk and you will learn the reason for your coming.”

  I said nothing and ate the food. There were fruits afterward—dates and little yellow fruit which I learned were called bananas. They were delicious.

  “You will want to know where you are. There is no reason why you should not. You are on one of the chief of a group of islands once known as the Fortunate Isles.”

  “And were they?” I asked.

  “You will not speak unless asked to do so,” he said. “These islands were in the far-off days called Canaria because when the Romans came here there were many dogs. They called them the Islands of Dogs. Now you will hear them spoken of as the Canaries and you will understand why. The dogs have disappeared. The islands were inhabited by a race known as the Guanches—a warlike people. There are some left. They are savages and stain their bodies with the dark red resin of the dragon trees. We have subdued them. The flag of Spain now flies over these islands. The French settled here first, but they were unable to keep order. We understood how important they were to our navigation. We did not fight for them; we bought them from the French and since then we have settled here and are subduing the Guanches.”

  “At least I know where I am.”

  “We are on the outskirts of the town of La Laguna, which we built when we settled here. You may be allowed to go into the town. It will depend on your behavior.”

  While he had been talking the food had been cleared away; but the silver jug containing a kind of mead which we had been drinking was left on the table.

  The door shut; we were alone.

  “You will hear now why you are here and why your path has crossed mine. You are necessary to a plan.”

  “How could that be?”

  “You will not be impetuous. You must be silent. You would not wish to play your part without knowing why. Nor would I wish you to. I would not have you think that I resemble the barbarians of your island home. You will be quiet therefore and learn the reason for your abduction. You will be reasonable, pliable, do what is expected of you and therefore save yourself much trouble and degradation. I am no rough pirate. I am a man of breeding. I come from a noble family; I am distantly connected with the royal house of Spain. I am a man of taste and sensibility. What I must do is distasteful to me. I trust you will make it as tolerable as possible. I will continue.”

  I bowed my head submissively.

  “I am the Governor of these islands, which I hold in the name of Spain. I have told you how they came into our possession. They belong to Spain, as the whole world should and shall one day. But there are marauding pirates on the seas; and there is one nation which is particularly offensive to us. They have bold seamen, adventurers without grace, crude men who raid and pillage our coastal towns and ravish our women.”

  “It is not only one nation who is guilty of these practices,” I said. “I speak from personal experience.”

  “You will learn to curb your tongue while you are here. It is not seemly for women to use that organ so constantly. They should be gentle and gracious in the presence of their masters.”

  “I have yet to learn that you are my master.”

  “You have yet much to learn and the first lesson will be just that. You are here to obey me and that you will do. But silence, or you will rob me of my patience and you shall not know why but only that you must do as bidden.”

  That did silence me.

  “Let us to the point,” he said. “Five years ago I came here. I was betrothed to a lady of a noble family. Isabella was carefully nurtured and when I left Madrid she was a child of thirteen, too young for marriage, but we were betrothed. She would come out to me when she was fifteen. There were therefore two years to wait. Those two years passed and she was fifteen. She and I were married in Madrid by proxy. The King himself attended the ceremony. Then she set out on the journey from Spain. We prepared to receive her. Our true wedding would take place in the Cathedral of La Laguna within two days of her arrival. We were ready to receive her. The journey was long, for the ship had been becalmed for a week. You will know what that can mean. I waited eagerly and while I was waiting a message was brought to me that the Guanches were rising in another of our islands. It was imperative for me to leave La Laguna to sail across to the troubled island. I was there for three weeks; and in the meantime Isabella arrived. I was not there to greet her, but my household was in readiness. My young bride was received with honors; she was a bewildered child of fifteen, delicately nurtured, ignorant of life. I knew that it would be my task to teach her gradually and with care. But that did not happen. It was two nights after Isabella and her duenna arrived with their retinue that the pirates came. I was not there to defend her—my poor ravished Isabella—humiliated, degraded, terrified.”

  I shivered. “Poor child,” I murmured.

  “Poor child indeed, and you have not realized all. The effect on her has been terrible.”

  There was silence—a great moth fluttered up suddenly from the curtains and flew to the candlelight; it flew madly around, singeing its wings until it fell. We both watched it.

  “She had to be nursed back to health,” he said. “But that was something beyond our powers.”

  “She died?” I asked.

  He looked beyond me. “Perhaps it would have been better so.”

  We were silent for a second or so. I was thinking of the leering faces of men during the calm; and I saw the poor little girl of fifteen in their power.

  “I am not a man to accept insult and injury,” he said. “I seek revenge … nothing will satisfy me but revenge. I want an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. No more. But that I want and that I will have. Tell me that you understand.”

  “I do.”

  “You would feel as I if so wronged?”

  “I believe I should.”

  “There is anger in you. I sense that. It is good. It will make you pliant.”

  “Explain to
me more.”

  “It is simple. I know the name of the ship which raided our coast on that night. I know the name of Isabella’s ravisher. The ship was the Rampant Lion. The man who ruined her life Captain Jake Pennlyon.”

  I had caught my breath; I felt the color rushing into my face. I stared at him. I know my lips formed the name Jake Pennlyon although I did not speak.

  “Now you begin to understand. My affianced bride was cruelly treated by this brigand. His affianced bride is in my hands. You are not a fool. You understand.”

  “I begin to.”

  “I shall tell you of Isabella, beautiful Isabella, an untutored child. Our brides are young … younger than yours perhaps. Fifteen years old. She knew nothing of life, what marriage would be. I should have led her gently to understanding … tenderly. You are made of stronger stuff. You are no child. You have knowledge of the world. It may be that you are not a virgin. But I shall take my revenge. He took my woman, so shall I take his. You are not, I trust, carrying his child already?”

  “You are insulting.”

  “Nay. I respect your pride; but I know his kind. I would not wish to insult you. We are not brigands here. We live graciously and in a becoming manner I shall secure my revenge if you permit this. I know that you were not his mistress. My spies kept me informed.”

  “The false Rackell, the falser Gregory.”

  “Faithful to me,” he said, “as they should be. I have vowed to take my revenge and shall do so whatever the cost. I shall rejoice if you are a virgin, for that will make my revenge complete.”

  “That is your purpose then?”

  “Our wedding took place as arranged. She was demented. She would awaken screaming from her sleep; her dreams terrified her. None but her duenna could comfort her. When I approached her she shrank from me. She associated me with him, you see. We discovered that she was with child … that brigand’s child. You cannot realize this tragedy until you have seen it. I vowed revenge. I have sworn before all the saints that I shall not rest until that revenge is complete.”

  “A strange vow to take in holy places,” I said.

  “I have sworn,” he said, “in the name of God the Father and the Holy Virgin; I have sworn on my family’s honor, and I know that I have divine help in this, for now you are delivered into my hands.”

  “And so the drama is to be reenacted. I take the part of Isabella and you Pennlyon.” I recoiled from him—this strange cold man. “Do you think you could ever be like him? You could not be more unlike…”

  “And you like her. It matters not. You are here by God’s grace. We have brought you out of your island. You have come safely through the perils of the sea. And I swear by my ancestors and all the saints that you shall not leave this island until you carry my child in your womb. You shall take my child to him as he has left his to me.”

  “So you think that I will submit with docility?”

  “I think that you have no choice but to submit.”

  “And allow myself to be treated as of no consequence as merely a means of giving you your revenge!”

  “As Isabella was a means of satisfying that man’s lust.”

  “You call yourself courteous, sensitive! I call you a rogue, a pirate, for although you are too fastidious to sail the seas and capture women for yourself you have your servants bring them to you. You are as bad as he is.”

  “I have vowed a vow. I intend it to be carried out. I am indeed different from the man who was to have been your husband. I offer you a choice. Gracious submission or force.”

  “I’ve no doubt he offered her that.”

  I stood up and moved to the door. He was beside me.

  “This is distasteful to me,” he said. “Do not imagine I lust for your body.”

  “Can I hope that I am as repulsive to you as you are to me?”

  “You can believe that I have as little pleasure in what must be done as you have. But it shall be done and whether our encounter is to be conducted with seemly discretion or in a manner which will be humiliating and degrading to you is for you to decide.”

  I looked at him; he was slender and he did not give the impression of great strength, as Jake Pennlyon had. A woman would know at once that she had no chance against him. I could fight this man. And if I escaped him where should I go?

  He followed my thoughts. “I have many servants here. I have but to summon them. Strong men who would truss you up as a chicken for the pot. But I do not wish for that. I want the matter to be conducted expeditiously and with as little discomfort to you and myself as possible. I do not blame you for what happened. But you are a necessary instrument of my revenge.”

  I thought I could like him better if he were goaded by that lust—anything would be better than this coldly scheming approach.

  He said: “I will send for Maria; she shall conduct you to the bedchamber; she will prepare you. I will visit you there. I beg of you consider. You know you are here and powerless to resist. This shall come to pass. How depends on you.”

  He went to the door. Maria must have been waiting. She came in and knew what to do. I followed her back to the bedroom.

  I suppose always before I had acted on impulse. I had forcefully expressed my agreement or refusal to do anything. I had rarely been undecided. “Count ten before speaking,” my mother had said. I could go on counting day and night now and I should not know what to do. I was going to be this man’s mistress. It was as inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun. I could see nothing that would prevent it. I was a prisoner on this island and there was nothing that could save me. If I attempted to resist him he would resort to force as he had said; and he was not the man to apply force himself, any more than he was to take part in the actual abduction. Others did that for him.

  Maria slipped off my clothes; over my head was put a night shift of silk. It had that pungent odor about it.

  Maria turned down the sheet. She indicated that I was to get into the bed. I did so shivering. I was fighting with myself. I saw men tying my ankles together. I saw myself forcibly taken as Jake Pennlyon had taken Isabella. I could not endure that—just to reach the same end.

  Maria was blowing out the candles. The room was in darkness. She went out and shut the door.

  I leaped out of bed. I tried the door. It was locked. I went to the window. I drew back the curtains so that a little starlight penetrated. I opened the window and stepped out onto the balcony. I wondered if I could climb down into the patio. I could find Honey, run to her for shelter.

  I pictured rough hands on me. He was right, I had to make a choice. Would I make a pretense of submission or would I wait to be degradingly forced?

  It was too late. I could hear the key in the lock. I ran back to the bed and lay there, my heart beating quietly.

  He came into the room. I saw him in the starlight standing by the bed. He was wrapped in a robe, which he took off. I closed my eyes tightly.

  Then I was aware of his body, his hands on me, his face close to mine.

  I tried to calm myself and I thought: Oh, God, I saved myself from Jake Pennlyon, from the lustful men on the galleon … for this.

  A week had passed. I could not believe that this was happening to me. I saw little of him during the day, but each night he came to me. He never stayed. “The matter,” as he called it, was as distasteful to him as to me. I had never thought it possible to have such a cold-blooded lover—but he was not a lover; this had nothing to do with love; it was revenge.

  There was a certain passion—the passion of revenge—and for me the passion of hatred. I hated him for this humiliating use of me. He had robbed me of my dignity as a human being. I was not a woman to be loved or to be hated; I was a means to give him the revenge he needed. My hatred grew when I considered that. He was trying to create a life; he would bring a child into the world to satisfy his revenge and make me the instrument of reproduction. Could anything be more humiliating than that?

  Only a man of extreme arrogance could dream of
using others for such a purpose. He was every bit as bad as Jake Pennlyon. I hated them both. How dared they treat women in such a way!

  When this man came to me I thought of Jake Pennlyon and I could not shut out of my mind the thought of his coming to this house and finding Isabella and in my imagination I was Isabella and the man who was humiliating me was Jake Pennlyon.

  I was treated with respect during the day. There were servants to wait on me. During that first week I was not allowed beyond the house. But I did see Honey. The very first day I was taken to her. I was very shocked on that day by what had happened on the previous night; and as the days passed I was shocked in another way to discover how quickly I had grown accustomed to his visits.

  The first encounter had horrified me—after all, I had been a virgin and, although not ignorant of sexual relationships, had never experienced such. It was at this stage that I talked to Honey.

  She had been well received and had been given a pleasant room with Jennet to act as a kind of maid to her. She was bewildered as to why we had been brought there until I told her what had happened to me.

  She listened incredulously. “It is too fantastic. It can’t be true.”

  “This Felipe is a vindictive man. He is cold and cruel. He would go to any lengths to gain his revenge. When I carry his child we shall be taken back to England … and not till then.”

  “So it was all planned.”

  “What sort of mind would make such a plan? You can guess the sort of man he is. An eye for an eye. He has to pay back in exactly the same manner. It is Jake Pennlyon who has ruined my life, Honey. I knew it from the moment I saw him.”

  “His young wife taken like that! It’s horrible, Catharine.”

  “What became of her I don’t know. All I know is that he must have been heartbroken when he came back and found her … a child of fifteen, think of that, Honey; and Jake Pennlyon.”

  Then I began to laugh hysterically. “I have been raped. As surely as anyone I have been violated, and in this most courteous manner.” I covered my face with my hands.

  Honey shook me. “Don’t, Catharine,” she said. “Don’t laugh like that. It’s happened. Let us think on from there. This man…”