The Winding Stair

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  ‘It’s no use trying to make them.’ Senhor Macarao had come up to the castle to report to Mrs. Brett.

  ‘No, indeed.’ She was up and dressed, sitting in her straight backed chair to receive him. ‘They’d probably run for it.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. They’re nervy enough as it is. As if poor Tomas’ death wasn’t bad enough, they’re saying today that they heard the Enchanted Mooress ring her bell last night.’

  ‘Who says that?’ Mrs. Brett’s voice was sharp.

  ‘I’d forgotten about the Mooress and her bell,’ Juana dropped her embroidery and leaned forward to join in the conversation. ‘Do they really think they heard that?’

  Macarao shrugged: ‘They’ll believe anything when they’re panicky like this.’

  ‘But who says so?’ Mrs. Brett asked her question again, impatiently this time.

  ‘Why, all of them. The moon’s coming up for the full, and they worked all night last night. We got behind because of the funeral and, frankly, I think they’ll all be glad to be finished here and away. They say the bell rang, off and on, for hours. Of course they’ve no sense of time, those peasants. It means nothing.’

  ‘You didn’t hear it?’

  ‘No.’ He seemed puzzled at her insistence. ‘Of course not. An imaginary Mooress, ringing an imaginary bell on a bit of cliff that’s supposed to have fallen into the sea centuries ago! To warn that the crusaders are coming!’ His tone suggested that she was showing signs of senility at last. ‘I certainly did not hear it.’ And then: ‘As a matter of fact, I wasn’t here. I had to go into Lisbon last night to arrange for more casks. It’s a good year after all.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Even without the grapes from the bottom of the valley. Very well, Senhor Macarao, that will be all.’ She waited until he had bowed his way out. ‘You didn’t do that very well, Juana. Forgotten about the Mooress indeed! How could you, with Iago talking about her all the time?’

  ‘I’m sorry. Do you think Macarao noticed?’

  ‘Probably not. Being from the Algarve, he’s still treated as a foreigner here, even after all these years. He probably knows nothing about the signal. Did you hear it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nor did I. But we might well not have, with the wind from the sea to drown it. Don’t get your hopes up, though, till we’re sure.’

  ‘I’ll try not to. Where do they ring it, ma’am?’ The sound of what was supposedly the Enchanted Mooress’s bell was the signal to the Sons of the Star that their next meeting had been cancelled.

  ‘Anywhere on the ridge. Three nights before the meeting is due, to give time for the word to be passed along. Ring for Manuela, child. She’ll probably know about it by now.’

  Manuela did. ‘The Mooress’s bell? Yes indeed. They all heard it in the servants’ wing. Father Ignatius said a special prayer about it this morning. You’d have known, Juana, if you’d been there.’ This, with a hint of reproach, to Juana, who disliked Father Ignatius so much that she avoided morning prayers when she could.

  ‘Juana breakfasted with me this morning.’ Mrs. Brett’s tone made it a reproof. ‘Fetch Jaime, Manuela. The servants are bound to be in as much of a panic as the men in the vineyards. We must think of something to occupy them. Just the same,’ she went on, as the door closed behind Manuela, ‘one has to admit that; their superstition has its uses. It’s never occurred to anyone to go out and investigate the bell when they hear it ringing.’

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Not for years. It’s supposed to be death to see the Mooress.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It is, of course.’

  Juana shuddered. Once again, she found her grandmother’s calm acceptance of murder almost as disconcerting as murder itself. ‘Grandmother—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘About Tomas: you don’t know anything?’

  ‘What should I know? Except that we must arrange for a pension for his old witch of a mother. I meant to talk to Macarao about it, but his story of the Mooress’s bell put it clean out of my head. Ride down the valley this morning, Juana, and tell him to come up again after the siesta. Take Iago and see if you can talk some of the nonsense out of him. He’s bound to be spreading panic in the servants’ hall.’ She looked up. ‘Come in, Jaime. Did you hear the bell?’

  ‘I’m an old man, senhora. I sleep deeply.’ Was he hedging? ‘Luis heard it. He’s asked leave to go into Lisbon today and say a mass for his dead mother. He promised it her on her deathbed and then did nothing about it. He thinks the Mooress is after him.’

  Mrs. Brett laughed. ‘How absurd they are. A ghostly Mooress pursuing a Christian for breach of faith. How is he doing, Jaime?’ Luis was the new footman who had replaced Tomas.

  ‘I’m pleased with him.’ This, from Jaime, was high praise.

  ‘Very well. Let him go to Lisbon this evening and say as many masses as he likes. He need not be back till tomorrow.’ And, when Jaime had bowed and left them. ‘That should take care of getting the news of the cancellation spread about.’

  ‘You think Luis is one of them?’

  ‘Very likely. He turned up promptly enough after Tomas’ death. Don’t look so scared, child. The best thing you can do is assume that everyone belongs. That way, you’ll always be safe. But at least you’ve got a month’s respite.’

  ‘Yes, thank God.’

  . . .

  The month seemed to go like a flash. Juana had hardly done savouring the reprieve from one meeting when the moon was rounding to the full again and she must begin to prepare herself for the next one. But at least there was one piece of good news. Her grandmother gave it to her on a wet November morning when a week of steady rain had turned the far hills green and brought brilliant pink and white lilies into blossom in the Pleasant Valley. ‘Have you worked out the date for the meeting after next?’ Mrs. Brett asked.

  ‘No.’ One at a time seemed quite enough.

  ‘Then I’ve good news for you. It’s December 25th. They never meet on a holy day. You’ll have another free month. They’ll announce it at this meeting – no need for the enchanted Mooress and her bell.’ And then, at a soft tapping on the outer door, ‘See who’s there, Juana.’

  It was Manuela, looking at once frightened and important. ‘I’m sorry to intrude, but Senhor de Mascarenhas is here. He’s brought a horse.’

  ‘A horse?’ Mrs. Brett leaned forward in the big bed.

  ‘A lady’s horse. He says it’s a present for Juana. If you approve, of course.’

  ‘A very expensive present. Do you know anything about this, Juana?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She had heard nothing of her cousin since he had left in September and had never decided whether she was relieved or disappointed.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ The old lady’s apology came as a surprise to Juana. ‘Normally, of course, a young lady could not possibly accept such a present …’

  ‘No.’ It was what Juana had expected, and she was surprised that her grandmother seemed to find the matter even open to question.

  ‘But in the special circumstances,’ Mrs. Brett went on. ‘I don’t really know …’ She came to a decision. ‘I think I had best get up and see this lavish young man. Go down, Juana, and tell him I am coming.’

  ‘And about the horse?’ She could not help thinking how pleasant it would be to have one.

  ‘Say as many pretty things as you like, but nothing definite. Tell him I’m thinking it over. It’s true.’

  Vasco was waiting in the courtyard, where his servant held the reins of an elegant Arab mare equipped with a beautifully made side-saddle. Juana could not help giving her an admiring glance as she greeted her cousin.

  ‘You like her?’ She had forgotten that glowing, concentrated look of his. ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of a Diana like you forced to bear with that old curmudgeon of a mule. Besides, on Sheba you could show a clean pair of heels to any number of bandits. I shall feel much happier about you, out here on the cliffs, if I know you
are riding her.’

  ‘It’s wonderfully good of you—’

  ‘It’s wonderfully selfish,’ he interrupted before she was able to voice her doubts. ‘What greater pleasure could I have, cousin, than in giving pleasure to you?’

  This was going a little fast for her. ‘My grandmother wants to see you,’ she said. ‘She is considering whether I ought to accept such a splendid present.’

  She had never seen him angry before. But there was no mistaking the dark flush that coloured his brown skin. ‘Your grandmother—’ He stopped, changed his tone entirely. ‘I beg your pardon, cousin. I nearly said something I should have regretted. But surely this is a matter between you and me, as cousins, as de Mascarenhas—’

  ‘You’ve proved it?’ Something in the confident way he had used the name encouraged her to ask the question.

  ‘To my own satisfaction. But – here’s the rub – to get legal proof I need one more witness – a man who was actually present at my mother’s marriage. He’s in the Spanish Army now, in the contingent that is fighting for Napoleon in Europe. I have come to say goodbye to you, cousin.’

  ‘Oh.’ Now she was almost sure she was sorry to see him go. And yet there was something a little disconcerting about the way he seemed, as soon as he arrived, to take charge of her.

  ‘Say you will miss me a little? Will think of me sometimes? Will be good to Sheba for my sake?’

  ‘Will you be gone for long?’ She found herself trying to pull the conversation back into safer channels.

  ‘Impossible to tell. But not a minute longer than I must. I’ve been chasing all over Portugal after my witnesses. You must understand, cousin, that since I met you it has become more imperative than ever that I prove my birth as good as yours. But I’ve no right even to say that to you, now. Only – don’t forget me, Juana, when I’m gone.’

  ‘Of course not.’ She felt a little breathless, even, oddly, a little frightened. ‘How could I’– she made an effort at a lighter note – ‘if my grandmother lets me keep your beautiful Sheba.’ And she moved a little away from him to fondle the glossy brown nose.

  ‘She will let you.’ It came out curiously definite as he came to stand very close beside her and join in fondling the handsome mare. ‘She’s fit for a queen,’ he said.

  To Juana’s relieved surprise, Mrs. Brett did agree to her keeping the horse, but as a loan. ‘Between cousins, there can be no objection to that.’

  ‘I shall consider it a gift.’ Vasco rose to say goodbye. ‘May I write to you, sometimes, cousin, to tell you how I speed in my search?’

  ‘I don’t know—’ with a doubtful glance at her grandmother. But Mrs. Brett was talking to Prospero and apparently had not heard the request.

  ‘I don’t expect you to answer,’ Vasco went on. ‘That would be asking too much, I know. Besides, I shall be moving as fast as I can – it’s doubtful if letters would reach me. I shall write, cousin, and hope that you have too much heart to burn my poor letters unread. Be good to Sheba; think of me sometimes. I shall return as soon as I have a clear name to—’ He stopped, caught her unresisting hand, kissed it, and took his leave.

  Sheba was a delight. It was impossible not to feel kindly towards Vasco – and anyway, why should she not? – when her rides had turned from penance to pleasure. She rode further and further afield, making Iago or Luis ride Rosinante so that they would not get too far behind. It was an odd thing, she thought, seeing this new regime accepted in the castle: no one knew that her grandmother had made her her heir, but they all treated her with a new respect these days. It did not occur to her that this might result from a change in herself.

  November 26th came round at last and Juana found herself not quite so frightened as she had feared to be. After all, she had gone down the winding stair alone before. Practice makes anything easier. She refused to let herself think about Tomas, and went down the long stairs with a good heart and a steady hand. She had decided not to try and explore the big cavern: it was altogether too risky. Instead, she sat by the brazier in her little cell, recited the speech she had just learned – ‘The quality of mercy is not strained’ – and waited for the gong to sound.

  Mrs. Brett had confirmed her theory that the acolytes were different each time, so today she had a comfortable sense of being the experienced member of the trio. She thought the others went about their duties even more nervously than the last pair, and wondered if they knew about Tomas. But then they had, all three of them, plenty to be nervous about.

  In fact, the meeting went fast and smoothly. As Gair had predicted, the Brother of the Broken Cross reported that he had found the English secret agent. A Mr. Brougham, he had left for. England before any action could be taken. ‘He will doubtless return,’ said the leader. ‘We will wait till then. There is no great urgency about it. Our Brother of the Crescent Moon sends word that he was unable to see Napoleon before he left for Prussia. He only caught up with him in Berlin, after his victory at Jena, and, so far, Napoleon has continued too busy to see him.’ There was an angry murmur from the hooded figures around the table. ‘It’s natural enough,’ the leader explained, ‘with a conquered country to be disposed of. And, I have good news for you, Brothers. On the 21st of this month, Napoleon issued a decree, dated from Berlin, declaring a total blockade of England. Since he was too busy to see our Brother, the Emperor sent him advance information of this, as a proof of his good faith. Our Brother of the Golden Eagle has ridden day and night to bring us the news. He is here tonight, ready to answer your questions.’

  ‘Good news.’ The Brother of the Silver Hand rose to his feet. ‘With England hamstrung by a total blockade, we can do what we like here. I move that we wait only long enough for the blockade to take effect, then strike, swift and hard.’

  ‘But what about Spain?’ Predictably, this was the Brother of the Broken Cross. ‘We still need at least the promise of support from France before we can move in safety. Tell me, Brother of the Golden Eagle, which way will Napoleon turn next?’

  ‘Eastward.’ The Brother of the Golden Eagle spoke with a strong German accent. ‘He has an account to settle with Russia. He means to bring the Tsar to his knees before he returns to Paris.’

  ‘So still we must wait!’

  ‘Not for too long, I hope,’ interposed the leader. ‘Do not forget that we are powerfully represented at Napoleon’s court. Our Brother of the Crescent Moon will lose no opportunity to press our case with the Emperor. When the time is ripe, he promises to return, in person, to bring us the news, and join in our great enterprise. In the meanwhile,’ he looked round the circle of hooded figures. ‘Has anyone else a question for our Brother from Germany? Then it remains but to announce that since the full moon, next month, falls on Christmas Day, there will be no meeting.’

  ‘What if there is news from our Brother of the Crescent?’ asked the Brother of the Broken Cross.

  ‘If the matter is urgent, I will summon a special meeting. You all know the signal, brothers? For three days running a madman will appear in the cloisters of the Geronimos, crying that he has been chased by the escolares and their wolves. And now: Sons of the Star, we meet only to part—’

  It was the signal for Juana to close her spy-hole. Only later, climbing wearily up the winding stair, did she remember that no one had mentioned the death of Tomas. She remarked on this to Gair next day: ‘Surely, if they killed him, something would have been said? Or’ (she had been thinking about it a great deal) ‘do you know – I have been to three of their meetings now, and I’m more and more convinced that they are not real.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why – that it’s all – I don’t know – a parade, somehow, make-believe. A few of them (three really: the leader and the Brothers of the Broken Cross and the Silver Hand) pretend, for the benefit of the others, to discuss what they have already decided in private. Do you think I’m mad to suggest it?’

  ‘On the contrary, I think you’re very acute. It’s something I’d
wondered myself, from your grandmother’s reports. The discussion goes so smoothly and so fast. It’s as if there were a secret committee that really made the decisions.’

  ‘Yes. And another thing; when the leader says his last bit about parting to meet again he gabbles it off as if the whole business bored him. What do you think it means, Gair?’ She coloured. What in the world had made her use his Christian name?

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ Had he not even noticed? ‘But I must think of some way to find out. At least, Napoleon’s eastward march has given us time. I’m sure they’ll risk no action until there’s a French army at Bayonne to back them up.’ He rose to his feet. ‘We’ve been out here long enough alone. Rely on me to let you know if a madman appears at the Geronimos, but I don’t expect it.’ And then, opening the door to usher her back from the loggia into the Ladies’ Parlour, ‘I hope you enjoy Mr. Scott’s poem.’ A new copy of The Lay of the Last Minstrel had been his pretext for calling.

  He had just left when Estella came running across the central courtyard to summon Juana to her grandmother. Juana had never seen plump Estella run before, and even on this comparatively cool day of late November it had reduced her to a trembling, hard-breathing state of near-collapse. ‘You must go to Mrs. Brett directly.’ She could hardly get the words out. ‘This instant. I’ve never seen her so angry. Don’t waste a minute.’

  ‘But what’s the matter?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her breath was steadying. ‘Something in her letters from England. Go quickly, Juana, and see if you can soothe her; it can’t be good for her, to be in a state like this. I was afraid she’d do herself an injury. Or me.’

  ‘Then you’d better let my niece go and find out what is the matter.’ Juana would never get used to the way her uncles crept about the castle in carpet slippers. This time it was Prospero who had come quietly in behind Estella while she was talking. ‘We don’t want poor mother to do herself an injury.’