by Stacy Gregg
I could hear the stallion, rustling and stamping his way through the undergrowth of the jungle. Now for a third time he gave his mighty cry, beckoning the mare to him.
The Duchess raised her head, her eerie blue eyes searching the dark jungle that surrounded us.
“You can’t go yet,” I told her firmly. “You need to stay here until the cuts heal.”
Instinctively, I let go of the rope with one hand so that I could stroke her face, and as I did this her blue eyes seemed to lose some of their fire. She acknowledged my touch with a gentle nicker.
Did she recognise me from our ordeal on the mudflats yesterday? Was it possible that she knew that I had tried to save her life?
As if in answer to my question, the Duchess lowered her head and placed her muzzle right up against the back of my hand, almost like a knight kissing a maiden’s wrist. I felt her soft lips brush my skin like velvet.
“You got de obeah all right.”
Annie had appeared out of nowhere. She was standing outside the pen holding a string of bones and a big bunch of purple herbs. The way she stared at me and the Duchess totally gave me the creeps.
She stood as still as a statue, and then shook herself and began to make this weird clucking noise with her tongue. She had a spooky look on her face and her eyes were rolling back in her head.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
Annie didn’t answer. She was shaking the bunch of purple herbs all around herself. She began to walk towards me, shaking the purple herbs around me and around the Duchess and then she beckoned for me to come out of the pen and she thrust the herbs into my hand.
“I… hey… What are you doing?” I asked.
“You gots de obeah. You have to make de magic circle,” Annie said. “Make it good and strong, keep de stallion away.”
I held the herbs reluctantly – keeping them at arm’s length.
“Make de circle,” Annie made a sweeping gesture. “Like dis…”
She traced where the circle needed to go, arcing a perimeter all the way round the pen.
“Now, you do it!”
I felt really stupid but I did what she told me, dragging the bunch of purple herbs through the dirt. As I did this, Annie muttered away and jangled a string of chicken bones in her left hand as if they were rosary beads.
“What are those for?”
“Shush, child!” Annie raised the bone hand to silence me. “I is workin’!”
With a few vigorous shakes, she finished her ritual and then took the herbs from me and hung them with the bones on the post near the gate of the pen.
“She be safe,” Annie said confidently. “Ain’t no way de stallion will get to her now.”
Weirdly enough, the sound of hooves was indeed gone. Then again, I figured, this could have just been a coincidence. I failed to see how a bunch of herbs and some bones could drive away a horse. I looked at the Duchess, standing calmly in her pen.
“What will you do with her?” I asked.
“Keep her another day or t’ree,” Annie said. “Until de flesh heals on the wounds and she ain’t infected. Den I take her back across the island to her home, let her loose again with de herd.”
Annie turned to me. I thought she was going to say something important, but then she seemed to change her mind.
“Bee-a-trizz,” she shoved her straw hat down firmly over her dreadlocks, “get your things, child. Annie gonna take you home.”
I walked back towards the house, still feeling a little wobbly on my legs. I wasn’t sure if I had fully recovered from my heatstroke, but I wasn’t about to say anything to Annie in case she changed her mind.
I found my backpack hanging on the hook of the front door. I hadn’t noticed before now that Annie had rescued it. She must have found it on the beach when she dragged me from the mud hole. It was a little battered, but even my drink bottle was still inside.
I strapped it on and picked up the ancient diary. I held it with reverent care, tracing my finger over the worn gold letters on the cracked leather cover.
It seemed so incredible to be holding a piece of history in my hands. I mean, that had to be the Christopher Columbus she was talking about, right? The date of the diary entry made sense – I remembered the rhyme from school: In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Felipa’s diary was over five hundred years old!
“Take it wit’ you.”
I looked up to see Annie standing in the doorway. “What?”
Annie gestured at the book in my hands. “Take de diary.”
“Really?” I hesitated. “It’s very old. It might be valuable…”
Annie laughed. “Child! Take a look around you! Everytink here is old – including me!”
She took the diary from my hands and wrapped it back up in its old dirty rags and shoved it into my backpack.
“You take it, Bee-a-trizz,” she insisted. “You be de guardian of de words now.”
“But…” I tried to protest but Annie shushed me. “Don’t back-sass me, child! Take de book!”
As we left Annie’s cottage, I felt relief to be heading home at last, but all the same I worried about leaving the Duchess behind.
Annie seemed convinced that the mare was safe, because I had drawn a circle in the dirt with a bunch of herbs. But what if the stallion came back while we were gone?
“Is he the herd leader?” I asked Annie as we bumped along. I had to shout to make my voice heard above the tractor engine.
“Who?” Annie shouted back.
“The stallion.”
Annie kept her eyes on the track up ahead.
“Mercy no, child!” she laughed. “He ain’t de leader. She be de one in charge.”
“You mean the Duchess?”
Annie nodded. “Medicine Hat is de boss lady. She one special horse.”
“Where is her herd?” I asked.
Annie shrugged. “Most often dey down by de Bonefish Marshes, but dey goes where dey please. Could be anywhere.”
“So nobody owns them?”
“No, child,” Annie said. “Dey is wild, like I tell you.”
“But how did they get here?”
“Nobody knows, child.”
“Well they must have been owned by someone once. How did they—”
Suddenly Annie steered the tractor down a steep track where the ground dropped away to one side and I found myself fighting to hang on. I gave up talking after that and clung on to the wheel arch. Later, I wondered if Annie had driven down the bank on purpose just to shut me up.
As it was, I was feeling pretty weak – and it took all my strength just to hang on until we reached the beach and I could see the Phaedra anchored in the bay.
I never got the chance to say goodbye to Annie. What with Mom fussing over me, she was gone before I knew it. I never said thank you for the diary either. Was she right that I possessed some strange connection to the ancient book? All I knew was from the moment I held the diary, I couldn’t wait for my chance to disappear into its pages once more.
F.M.
10th September, 1493
My heart was singing as we rode back through the gates of the city of the Alhambra. How wonderful to be home at last!
For many months our grand tour has taken the royal court across the whole of Spain. In every village there have been fiestas in the streets. The people of Spain gather and throw garlands of flowers and cry out, “Long Live the Queen!”
Her Majesty always leads the procession for she is an excellent rider. Her stallion Angelus is a difficult creature, always fretting and stamping his impatience to be on the move, but she handles him with such ease. She talks to him as if he is a naughty child, until his temper calms.
Joanna and I always ride directly behind her. Joanna has several horses but she usually rides Victorioso, a palomino with a very showy golden coat and silver mane. Victorioso is very beautiful but never in a million years would I trade him for my Cara.
Cara Blanca – white face. So pure, like an angel wit
h startling blue eyes. She has a brown marking like a sombrero over her ears and patches of brown on her rump, shoulders and chest too. These make her very special. It was the Queen herself who told me this.
“Do you understand the meaning of her markings?” The Queen asked me one day as we were journeying. She pointed first to Cara’s ears. “This holds wisdom,” she said. Then she pointed to the dark brown patch that could be seen on Cara’s chest. “And this is a shield across her heart,” Queen Isabella said. “The sign of the protector.”
As we rode through the gates of the Alhambra, Cara seemed to know that we were home. She arched her neck and held her tail high and proud.
“Wave to the crowd!” Joanna told me.
“But I am not a princess!” I replied. “It is you that they wish to see, not me.”
“All the same,” Joanna said, “you must wave. It makes the people happy.”
I did as Joanna told me. I waved until my hand hurt, and then once we were safely inside the palace walls I dismounted from Cara and took the reins of Joanna’s palomino too.
“Allow me to put Victorioso away,” I said.
“We have stable hands for that,” Joanna said.
“But I would rather look after the horses myself,” I insisted.
Joanna shrugged. “As you wish, but come back to my chambers straight away. I would like to discuss my clothes – I’m not certain which dress to wear at court tomorrow.”
I hesitated. “Oh… The thing is…”
“What?” Joanna frowned.
“I was hoping that I might spend the night at my own home,” I said nervously.
My parents have a house in Granada, not far from the palace – I had not seen them in months and I was desperate to see Mama.
“I need you to stay with me,” Joanna said. “I cannot dress myself.”
“But Joanna…”
I saw the sneer on her face. “Your Royal Highness,” I corrected myself. “I promise I will lay out your garments for dinner tonight before I leave for home and I will make sure I am back early in the morning to dress you.”
Joanna looked upset. “Do I really have to command you to stay with me? Aren’t you my best friend?”
“No!” I said. “I mean, yes, I am your best friend. And I do want to stay. But I have not seen Mama and Papa in months. Please… it is just for one night…”
Joanna hesitated. Then she waved her hand dismissively at me.
“Go home,” she said. “Give my greetings to your family, and do not fail to be back first thing to dress me for breakfast.”
“Thank you, Princess!”
After I settled Cara and Victorioso into their familiar stalls I hurried to the royal chambers and laid out Princess Joanna’s wardrobe for tonight’s dinner. Then I set off on foot, making the short walk to my home.
My parents did not know that the royal party had returned and when my mother opened the door and saw me on the stoop she let out a squeal and flung her arms round me tightly.
“Felipa! My darling!” She held me out at arm’s length to examine me. “Look at you! How big you have grown! Oh, and your beautiful new gown!”
“It was a gift from Princess Joanna,” I told her proudly.
I must admit after so long in royal company I had grown accustomed to such trappings of luxury. That evening when my father returned home and Mama gaily placed the platters of rice and stewed lamb on the table, I couldn’t help but be disappointed. At the palace our meals were always sumptuous banquets, with several courses, and there were always entertainments and servants to do the cleaning up for us.
It was not that my household was poor. My mother had once been the Queen’s own companion and she was her distant cousin too. I had noble blood in my veins on Mama’s side and my father, a Jew by birth, had converted to the Catholic faith to please the Queen and earn a respected position as the collector of taxes in Granada.
Mama was busy asking me questions.
“Tell me about the fashions in Barcelona!” she said. “What are the ladies wearing?”
“Never mind such trifling matters!” my father said. “They say that there is plague in that city.”
“It is so horrible,” I told them. “The plague strikes down commoners and nobles alike. First comes the fever and delirium, and very soon afterwards great black pustules appear and then the very blood inside the body appears to boil and spew forth…”
“Felipa!” My mother had turned quite pale. “Please! Not while we are eating dinner!”
“Sorry, Mama,” I said. “I am only repeating what I have heard. When news of the plague reached the court the Queen’s advisors insisted that we must leave immediately. We rode straight back to Granada in just three days.”
My father wanted to know more, but Mama diverted the subject to the goings-on at court. “I hear that Christopher Columbus made his triumphant return and travelled to Barcelona for an audience with the Queen,” she said. “Did he remember you?”
“If he knew me, he did not show it,” I said. “He thinks he is quite grand now that the Queen has made him her Admiral of the High Seas. He turned up at court dressed in a velvet hat and cape and his men stood beside him with gifts of brilliantly coloured parrots, and animals, and most amazing of all – six Indians, natives of the land he had discovered.”
“And what did these natives look like?” my mama asked with wide eyes.
“They were quite savage,” I told her. “Dressed in no more than paint and feathers, naked and shivering. I heard that one of them had already died of the cold when they arrived. The Queen has taken the remaining six into her care. She is teaching them her faith so that they can become good Catholics.”
“It sounds like they need warm clothes, not the words of God,” my father said.
My mother’s face turned anxious and she pushed her dinner aside.
“Is something wrong, Mama?” I asked.
“No, Felipa,” my mother insisted. “It is just that it has been a year since the Queen made her ruling that the Jews are to leave Spain. Many of our friends were forced to abandon their homes and possessions and all that they hold dear…”
My father interrupted her. “I have told your mother that the royal decree does not apply to us. We are dear friends of the Queen and we are Conversos – we now live in the Catholic faith.”
I agreed with my father. “The Queen is always very sweet and generous to me, even though she knows I have Jewish blood in my veins.”
“All the same,” my mother persisted. “They say Tomas de Torquemada sends his men to drag decent families from their homes…”
“As if Torquemada and his inquisitors would dare to question the Queen’s own tax collector!” my father scoffed. “We are under Her Majesty’s protection. You will see.”
My mother did not argue again. She began to clear away the dinner plates from the table.
I went to my room and later, when my mother came upstairs with a basket of laundry, I noticed that she had a red welt on her wrist. “There was a flea,” she said, “when I unpacked your clothes from Barcelona. It must have bitten me.”
F.M.
17th September, 1493
The Princess was in a cheerful mood when I returned to her. She seemed to have forgotten her outburst of the day before.
“It is a lovely day!” she said. “We should saddle up and go for a ride together after breakfast.”
We left the palace gates and were cantering through the countryside when I saw a farmer bent down low over a dark shape in a field not far away from us.
“What is he doing?” Joanna wondered, and with her usual impetuousness she rode straight towards him.
When we were closer I saw that he knelt over a newborn foal. It was jet black, and very beautiful, but to look upon it broke my heart as it was dead. The man had clearly killed it with his own hands, but now he sat weeping over the lifeless body.
“Why did you do this?” I asked him, choking back tears.
The fa
rmer looked up at me. “I had no choice,” he said. “The Church has decreed that all black horses are the servants of Satan. If a black foal is born then it must not be allowed to live.”
“This cannot be true,” I said. “Surely a horse cannot be judged by the colour of its coat to be good or evil?” I found it hard to believe that the Church considered black horses cursed.
I looked at the poor foal lying dead in the dust and something inside me snapped. “This is Tomas de Torquemada’s work,” I said to Joanna. “He is a madman! We have to do something!”
I expected Joanna to agree with me. She loves horses just as much as I do. But instead she pulled her lips taut.
“My mother appointed Tomas de Torquemada to be the hand of God. Do you question the will of the Queen?”
We rode back to the Alhambra in silence. In my mind I kept seeing the black foal, its eyes glassy in death, and I thanked God for Cara with her special markings, the brown sombrero over her ears and the shield at her chest… the markings of good fortune and protection.
I took both horses to the stables and I spent a long time brushing Cara, mostly to avoid seeing any more of Joanna until I had to. I felt uneasy in her company right now.
Cara stood with her usual regal bearing while I groomed her silken mane and sang to her. Then I mixed her feed, and put a bale of alfalfa in her hay rack before dusting myself off and heading to the royal chambers to prepare the Princess for court.
The Queen’s return to the Alhambra had created an air of excitement. All afternoon a steady parade of noblemen arrived at the palace seeking an audience with Her Majesty. The Queen sat on her throne and listened intently as they took their turn to step forward to ask her favours.
When Tomas de Torquemada spoke he gave a report on the Inquisition. He delighted in a story about a Converso who turned out to be a secret Jew and had betrayed the Queen.
The Queen listened and nodded in solemn agreement as Tomas told her that the man had been sentenced to be burnt alive.
The business of court had almost drawn to a close when Christopher Columbus entered the room.
He strode proudly up the great hall and as he took his bow he gave a ridiculous flourish of his hat so that the plume almost poked his nose. I did not dare look at Joanna as I’m sure she would have reduced me to fits of giggles.
