Lion Triumphant

by Philippa Carr

  “Yet,” he said, “all this has brought me you.”

  “It is better to say no more of that. Let me go back to England. My son is old enough to travel now.”

  “And lose you both!”

  “It is better for you. You are a man of great standing. You will go back to Madrid and take up a post of great importance. Perhaps in due course you will be in a position to marry. Who can say? But you should let me go.”

  “I cannot lose both you and the child. You are more to me than anything on Earth.”

  The fact that he spoke these words in a quiet, restrained manner gave them force. I was suddenly afraid of the passion which I had aroused in this cold man.

  He began to talk eagerly. “If we were married I could legitimize Roberto. I have rich lands and estates in Spain. He should be my heir and there would be a goodly portion for other children we might have. We should live graciously. Perhaps I should retire from the Court. Our children would have every comfort that you would wish for them.”

  I let myself dwell on the prospect, which was strange because although I loved Roberto beyond everything and in a way wanted those rich estates for him I longed for home. I wanted to see my mother, to witness the happiness in her face when she knew that her girls were safe and alive; I wanted to see the fruit trees in blossom in the spring. In short, I wanted to go home.

  I said to him: “You speak of dreams. You have a wife. I am sorry for you. I am sorry for us all. But Isabella stands between you and what you hope for.”

  And I left him because I wanted to brood on my feelings which were by no means clear to me. There were times when I felt a great relief because Isabella stood between us and there could be no change in our relationship because of this; but at others I was not so sure.

  Weeks grew into months. There was an uneasy tension in the house. I was constantly aware of Felipe’s brooding eyes on me. He often visited the nurseries and Roberto, who knew him well, used to clap his hands when he saw him.

  Manuela had joined Jennet there and although the two of them were not as friendly as I would have wished them to be there was no outward friction.

  My son was nearly two years old. So it was three years since we had left England. Much of it seemed far away, but there were moments which I could remember with such clarity that they might have happened but a day before; and most of these concerned my mother. If I could have seen her and if she could live close to me and if there had been no Isabella I think I would have agreed to marry Felipe.

  I was not in love with him; but it was impossible to live in the Hacienda and not respect him. His dignity was unquestionable. His justice was apparent in his treatment of those who offended—not that many dared. He was admirable. He was a man of power and a man in command appealed to me. I knew what marriage would entail with him; he would be no stranger in my bed. I knew that I could expect courtesy, gentleness and now a tenderness in our relationship. He loved me with a quiet intensity which I found comforting. I could see a pleasant life opening out before me. I did not expect to love, as I had loved Carey, but I could accept Felipe, and I thought of all the advantages he could bring to me and my son. Roberto would be heir to vast estates. He would receive the best of educations. He would be brought up in the Catholic church, of course, and he would go to Spain and the fact that he had an English mother would be no hindrance with the power of Don Felipe behind him.

  During one of my talks with Felipe I said as much. It would be different if Isabella were not there. On the other hand, I was thankful to her. She prevented my having to make a decision which would have been immensely difficult for me.

  So during that time I was living in a period of indecision. I knew now that Don Felipe would never allow me to return to England—either with or without my child. Not that I would consider going without Roberto. And I knew too that Isabella stood between our making any decision.

  That this was just an intermediary period was brought home to us by the arrival of Luis Herrera, the man who would in time take Felipe’s place.

  Don Luis was a handsome man, slightly younger than Felipe—charming, good-looking, courteous. It was apparent from the first moment that he saw Honey that he was deeply affected by her.

  Whenever I looked at her I wondered why Don Felipe should have set such store by me when Honey was there. She was superbly beautiful with her violet eyes and dark hair. I knew that she lacked my vitality; she was no fighter, as I was; it had always been her way to let life flow over her, or if she did feel strongly to brood over it and withdraw into herself.

  However, she did none of this with Don Luis and it was clear that they liked each other’s company from the start.

  Don Luis brought news from the outside world. The four of us dined together—Honey and Luis, myself and Felipe. Felipe’s excuse for this was that it made a pleasant party.

  Luis talked a great deal about England. Since we had left, the rivalry between Spain and England had intensified. We heard that the Queen, so unsafe did she feel on the throne, had imprisoned the Lady Catherine Grey—who had some claim—in the Tower for marrying without royal permission.

  “She is afraid that there will be offspring to challenge her rights,” said Don Luis. “Yet she remains unmarried. And how can an unmarried woman beget heirs?”

  I winced, but only Felipe noticed.

  “She has been mightily sick of the smallpox and it was feared in England, though hoped in Spain, that she would die. Even then she refused to appoint an heir.”

  “You forget, Don Luis,” I said, “that you speak of our Queen.”

  “A thousand pardons. I thought but to give you the truth.”

  “Of course we want the truth,” I replied. “But if our Queen refuses to appoint an heir it is because she knows that many years are left to her and she will beget her own.”

  Don Luis was too polite to debate the point.

  Honey laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t let Catalina”—they had all begun to call me Catalina—“stop your telling us the news. We long to hear it.”

  “I’ll tell you something else,” said Luis. “One of your Captains, John Hawkins, has started dealing in slaves.”

  “Dealing in slaves!” I cried.

  “Indeed he has. He has fitted three ships and taken them to the Guinea Coast. There he captures Negroes and takes them to that part of the world where he thinks to get the highest price for them.”

  “You mean he just picks people as though they were … plants and takes them away from their families. It’s monstrous.”

  Felipe was regarding me steadily.

  I saw myself … a slave. I saw my little Roberto snatched from me … perhaps taken from me to be a slave himself or left behind while I was carried away in chains. I have always, I think, more than most people, put myself in the places of others; it was one of the reasons I waxed vehement when I thought justice had failed to be done.

  Felipe said: “Your English Captain Hawkins has done this. You should not hanker for that island of yours. Is it not true, Luis, that some of the ships used by Hawkins belonged to the Queen of England? And this, Catalina, sets her seal of approval on this horrible trade.”

  Luis said: “You should be thankful that you are here…” And he smiled at us both. “Perhaps we all have reasons to be thankful.” He threw a soulful look in Honey’s direction. “For life goes on uncertainly in your island. Each day the English become a greater menace to us on the high seas. We are a great and powerful nation. We intend to colonize the whole world. And one day we shall take over your island too. You will become a vassal of Spain.”

  “You do not know us,” I said fiercely. And I thought of Jake Pennlyon then. I would stake all I had on him when set against these courtly gentlemen. Even hating him as I did, I knew that his courage was supreme and his love of his country as natural to him as drawing breath.

  “We begin to,” said Luis, smiling gently. “A formidable enemy. Our most formidable! There should be peace between us. We should
unite without fighting.”

  “That could never be,” I said.

  “I think so too,” put in Felipe gently, “but it is a pity.”

  “Your country is losing her possessions on the continent of Europe,” went on Luis. “Warwick has surrendered Le Havre to the French. The English will never regain a foothold in France and the only spoils of war which Warwick has brought back to England from France are the plagues. Twenty thousand persons have been carried off by one in and around the city of London.”

  I turned pale thinking of my mother and the old days when the sweating sickness had visited the Capital.

  It was good to hear news of England though, even if it was not good news. I believed that it was colored to be advantageous to Spain and I could understand that; but how strange it was that the men who loved us (for Luis clearly was in love with Honey) should have been so gratified by the misfortunes which befell those who were dear to us.

  Honey explained to me: “I have been without a husband so long, Catalina. I am young.”

  “You are older than I.”

  “But young. Admit it, Catalina. And I am fond of Luis.”

  “You are not in love with him.”

  “I can settle for him.”

  “And Edward?”

  “Edward is dead. You know, don’t you, that we are never going to leave this place. We shall spend the rest of our time here. Even if Don Felipe were willing to let us go, how could we? Could we sail to England in a Spanish galleon and be rowed ashore! ‘Here are your women now returned to you!’ Imagine that. They would have forgotten us at home. What should become of us?”

  “You think Mother would ever forget us? Grandmother too. I long to be home with them.”

  “I want that too, but it is not to be. We know it is not to be. That is clear. Don Felipe loves you and he loves Roberto. He will never let you go. Be reasonable. He is a good man.”

  “A man who is so determined on revenge that he forces a woman to share his bed—not out of lust for her but for revenge.”

  “That is over.”

  “Over! For you perhaps. You were not violated.”

  “And that violation gave you Roberto, whom you love dearly. Try to look at life reasonably, sister. Sometimes good comes from evil. You were brought here against your will and the result is the son whom you love so deeply. The man who sought revenge has found love. Be reasonable. Life does not give you exactly what you most want, but it serves a very palatable dish. Be wise, Catalina, don’t turn away from it.”

  “And become his mistress?”

  “You would have all the honors of a wife.”

  I said coldly: “Talk of yourself, Honey, but leave me out of it.”

  “Well,” she said, “I am going to marry Luis.”

  “A foreigner, and enemy of our country.”

  “What are countries to women who love? I am a woman. I have been long without a husband. I need a husband and Luis is good. He will be a father to Edwina.”

  I was silent, and she went on gently: “Perhaps you will go away from here after a while but, I shall stay, for Luis will be Governor in due course.”

  “Then we shall say good-bye.”

  “Only au revoir. Because, Catalina, when our spell is done, and it will not be more than eight years, we shall come to Madrid and there we shall see you in your beautiful home with Roberto and Carlos playing there with their brothers and sisters. Just think of it.”

  “A pretty picture,” I said. “Marry your Luis if you so need to marry. Have your children. What matters it, one man is as good as another to some.”

  “Why do you speak thus? Ah, I know. It is because my way is plain. Yours is not. You are not indifferent to Felipe. You change when he is in the house. I am sorry Catalina that Isabella stands in your way.”

  “Isabella stands in your way.” The phrase haunted me. I dreamed of Felipe often. And he was there at the side of my bed and Isabella was beside him—a pale, shadowy child with a doll in her arms.

  Honey and Luis were married in the Cathedral. She was the most beautiful bride I had ever seen and there was about her that serene happiness which had been there before Edwina’s birth.

  Honey had always wanted to be loved, had blossomed with love; and there was no doubt that Luis adored her.

  The wedding was celebrated at the Hacienda and there was feasting and the people of the surrounding villages were invited to come and dance which they did in the gardens. It was a wonderful sight with the girls and young men in the traditional costumes dancing the Andalusian dances which had been brought from the mainland. They danced and sang to the tunes played on the timple and I heard for the first time the Isa and the Folias.

  Songs were sung praising the newly married couple and marriage in general, and afterward the bride and groom returned to the bedchamber and there was none of that ribaldry which would have accompanied such a ceremony at home.

  That night I lay sleepless for a long time and I thought: We are farther from home than ever. Honey has accepted her fate and if we could go home now she would not leave her husband. Honey has become one of them. And how could I go and leave Honey here?

  I thought: If my mother knew where I was; if I might see her now and then, I could do worse than marry Felipe. He would be a good and devoted husband; Roberto loved his father—how could I separate them?

  I was becoming more and more convinced that my life lay here.

  In my dreams I took Don Felipe’s hand and I was to be married in the Cathedral, for I would adopt his faith; and then I heard the childish tinkling laughter of Isabella.

  And I awoke with the words “Not while Isabella lives” ringing in my ears.

  Felipe wished us to take a trip inland …

  It would be good for the children, he said. I had only seen the great mountain Pico de Teide from the sea. I should see how truly magnificent it was. He himself had to go to another part of the island, and while he was away our nursery should be transported to a house in the valley which he used sometimes. His servants would look after us. We would come back refreshed after our little holiday.

  I knew that there was some motive behind this suggestion. Don Felipe was a man of mysteries. One would often wonder how much his inner feelings belied those which he expressed, but this, in a manner, was a source of fascination to me.

  When I learned that there was to be an auto-da-fé in La Laguna I thought I understood. Members of his household would be expected to attend and I was known to be an important member of that household—the Governor’s mistress. If I were absent, this would be noted. He did not wish to expose me to that which he knew was abhorrent to me; moreover, he would doubtless fear that I might betray my repulsion. Hence our trip into the mountains.

  I was touched by his concern for me. I was beginning more and more to enjoy basking in his care for me.

  We set out on mules with packhorses to carry all that we wished to take with us. We had a litter in which the children traveled and Honey. Jennet, Manuela and I took it in turns to ride with them. Sometimes we would carry one before us on our mule. It was a great game to them.

  Carlos, with Jacko in his wake, was adventurous. What one would expect, I thought, of Jake Pennlyon’s sons. I believe he had completely put behind him those nightmare days in the shack behind the Casa Azul. He was a child who would come through life unscathed, like his father. There was nothing of poor Isabella in him; he was all Jake Pennlyon. Jacko would be the same, for he followed Carlos in all things.

  It was not a long journey, some thirty miles in all, and I was struck by the exotic beauty of the land. We passed a magnificent old dragon tree which was said to be over two thousand years old. I remembered that it was from the resin of this tree that the native Guanches stained their skins when they went in to do battle with their Spanish conquerors. John Gregory—with whom I had formed a kind of understanding—told me of this. Richard Rackell also accompanied us and we took about six servants and a party of half a dozen strong men i
n case we should need protection.

  I was amused by the amount of trouble Don Felipe had taken to get us away from La Laguna.

  We arrived in due course at the house in the mountains where we were to stay. We were treated with great respect since we had come from the Governor’s Hacienda. And there in the shadow of the white-topped Pico de Teide we spent some pleasant days.

  We rode out into the mountains; we gathered golden oranges; we played games with the children. It was a happy time. Honey missed Don Luis, who had remained behind to take charge in Felipe’s absence. As for myself I was content to be there in those impressive surroundings dominated by the great conical mountain. Felipe had given me books in Spanish so that I might learn something of Spain and improve my knowledge of the language. In these I had read of the Canaries too and of Tenerife in particular, which had been given the name of the Garden of Atlas in which golden apples grew. These were the oranges and the dragon trees were set there to guard this delightful spot.

  It was with some regret that I turned my mule homeward toward La Laguna.

  There a shock awaited us.

  Isabella was dead.

  A terrible fear came to me and hung over me like a dark shadow, for Isabella had fallen from the top of the staircase on the Casa Azul and broken her neck. It had happened five days after we had left—on the day of the auto-da-fé.

  I was aghast. It had happened so neatly. I was away; Don Felipe was away. How many times had he said: “If it were not for Isabella”?

  I wished that he had never mentioned marriage to me. I wished that Isabella was still in the patio at the Casa Azul playing with her dolls.

  Don Felipe had come home. He greeted me courteously but coolly; but I was aware of the intensity of the passion which he suppressed.

  Jennet was agog with excitement. It was she who told us how it had happened. She had had a detailed account from her lover in the stables.

  I made her tell me all she knew.

  “’Twere like this, Mistress,” she said, “’twere the day of the auto and the whole household had gone into Laguna.”