by Tina Donahue
“What things?”
“That list I gave you.” Beatriz glanced around his study. “Where did I leave…”
“Why?”
“We need to get her proper clothes as my personal maid.”
Ah. “And the other servants may destroy those garments if we fail to put a lock on the door to her room.”
“Best to be cautious. I also offered to teach her to read and write. She agreed.”
“What?”
“She should learn. Everyone should. Only makes sense. Rather than having to speak to the servants when you want something done, you could write out your instructions as you did with me for the harem. With the written word, there would be no excuses for work done incorrectly or forgotten.”
“You want to teach all the servants now?”
“During their free time.”
Did they have any?
“Is that my list?” She gestured to the missive he held.
“No. What I wrote your father. I was coming to show you.”
She slumped.
Tomás wished their wedding were already a done deal with their second or third child on the way. He needed to see her smile. “Would you like me to read what I wrote?”
“Can we do so together?”
“Certainly.” Once he was in his chair with her on his lap, he held out the missive, reading as she did.
Dear Señor Serrano,
As Don Larnaz has most likely told you, your daughter, Beatriz, has been staying at my estate. She came to us during a time of great need for her, arriving with nothing, not having eaten for days. My housekeeper was kind enough to offer assistance and a place for Beatriz to live and work.
In the months she was here, I grew to know and admire Beatriz for her kindness to others, her unfailing honesty, and her determination to finish her tasks no matter how difficult. Respect grew to love and my offer of marriage. She refused me at first. I now know she did so because of her betrothal to Don Larnaz. A matter that cannot stand.
She fears him. Such a marriage would destroy her. As a noble, I can give Beatriz whatever she needs and introduce her to those at court. To be fair to Don Larnaz, I willingly pay you the dowry he received to keep him from having to return the sum. I have included the money in this correspondence, expecting no dowry from you.
Beatriz wants nothing more than to be happy. I will move heaven and earth to see she has the best life possible and that no one ever harms her. I will fight to the death for her. I trust you want her best interests and will rejoice as she does for the new life she has.
Señor Don Tomás de Zayas
Chapter 12
Beatriz agreed with Tomás that Nuncio should deliver the missive, and called him into the parlor to deliver the news.
Nuncio bowed slightly. “Serving both of you is an honor.”
She hugged him.
He stiffened as he had the last time.
She hardly cared. He’d turned out to be a good man and a friend. Such devotion deserved a reward.
Tomás raised his eyebrows, then addressed Nuncio. “Two guards will accompany you.”
“Should I ask to speak with Señor Serrano, making certain he, not anyone else, receives the money? Or do I simply deliver the missive and sum to one of his servants and take my leave?”
Tomás looked at Beatriz. “Having him meet with your father would be best.”
She spoke to Nuncio. “If my father weeps during your visit, take no heed, the tears are for show. No matter how gracious he appears, be on your guard. If he asks anything about Tomás or me, say you have no knowledge of what he wants to know. You are merely the messenger. Tell him nothing. Reveal nothing. He will use whatever you say, no matter how innocent, to destroy us.”
Nuncio seemed surprised, then squared his shoulders and stood more erect than he usually did. “I would never allow him to deceive me into saying something I should not.”
Tomás put down his goblet. “Perhaps I should go as I first intended.”
Panic gripped her. “Absolutely not. He may have you waylaid on the journey home.”
“Is that why you begged me not to meet with him? Do you honestly believe your papá would stoop to murder?”
She didn’t want to think so badly of any man. However, she’d seen her father’s icy determination. People were obstacles or pawns, dealt with as he chose in order to reach his goal. “He wants a marquis for his son-in-law, no matter how indebted Don Larnaz may be to his creditors. If Papá could have interested a duke in wedding me, he would have.” She squeezed Tomás’s hand. “You may be of noble birth, but you will never be the first-born son or have the title he desires. Remember what you told me about Isabella and Sancha’s uncle, Don Rodrigo?”
To get his hands on his brother’s wealth, Don Rodrigo had murdered him and his wife, who were Isabella and Sancha’s parents, making one death look like an accident, the other an illness, then arranged Sancha’s kidnapping. As first-born, she inherited everything and stood in the way of riches he sought to use. Luckily, his plan failed.
Tomás pushed away from the mantel. “Perhaps we should wait to deliver the missive until after we wed. What can your father do then?”
Make her a widow. She gripped a chair.
He crossed the room to her. “You do believe he would have me killed.”
“I put nothing past him. Are you certain you want to go through with this?”
“You know I do. Never ask again.
“Nuncio, you leave at first light. If necessary, stay in the city at the home of one of my friends should Señor Serrano delay you unduly. You can—”
“Forgive me for interrupting. How would the man delay me?” Frowning, Nuncio glanced at Beatriz.
She smiled softly. “Take heart. He has another target in mind, not you. His delay would most likely be in putting on an act for you, inviting you to dine with him, trying to make you his friend.”
“Never.”
Craftier men had said the same thing. “Always keep up your guard around him.”
Tomás gestured for Nuncio’s attention. “Before you depart, I can pen a missive to my friends. Show the letter to any of them if you need to stay the night. Each will welcome you. No matter how long this takes, do not travel in the dark.”
“Which guards should accompany me?”
“The sturdiest and bravest ones.” She touched Tomás’s arm. “Please.”
He offered the names to Nuncio. “Inform them of the journey.”
“At once.” He left the study.
Tomás patted her hand. “You need to watch your tongue. You nearly scared poor Nuncio to death and even gave me pause.”
She wrapped her arms around his middle, her head on his shoulder. “I fear for you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“With a Moor. You have yet to meet my father. He makes the conspiracies among nobles look like child’s play, even those committed by Don Rodrigo.”
“I promise to take care. We should hear from Fernando and Enrique shortly. Surely, each of them can offer advice on the best way to approach this.”
* * * *
Shortly after Nuncio left for the city, Enrique’s missive arrived. Beatriz prayed it held good news.
In the study, Tomás pulled her onto his lap and opened the letter for both of them to read.
My dearest little brother,
Sancha and I offer our best wishes on your love and impending nuptials. Beatriz sounds like a wonderful woman.
How lucky you are.
As far as Beatriz’s good fortune, we pray the poor girl can put up with you for longer than a day.
She slapped the missive. “Put up with you? Is he serious?”
“My brother likes to jest. With his life settled and serene, he intends to get back at me for the times I teased him about Sancha. I was merciless.”
“I know how you are, my love.” She ran her fingers over his botto
m lip. “Enrique may have a point about me needing prayers.”
Tomás cuffed her wrist, licked her finger, then bit the tip gently. “Read.”
I agree you should wed Beatriz as quickly as possible. Alas, Dominico is not available for your nuptials. He joined with the King and soldiers in the Crown’s newest effort against the Moors. Dominico is finally getting his wish to be a warrior.
Beatriz shook her head. “Dominico?”
“Enrique’s childhood friend. Mine too. A sacerdote now. Dominico wed Enrique and Sancha in secret, without banns, when they needed to fight the witchcraft rumors against her.”
Beatriz had known about Sancha saving Tomás’s life, and that she pursued medicine in secret, fearing the Inquisition. However, he’d never mentioned her fighting talk about being a witch. “I want to hear the full tale someday, please. First, though, I thought no one could wed in secret or without banns.”
“Our monarchs did. They knew each other no more than a few days before wedding, and kept their union from the Queen’s father for years. Quite the scandal. See what you find out when you live with a noble?”
She’d learned far more from him than monarchs’ missteps. “Especially one who has a harem at his castle.”
He laughed.
“About Dominico, is he the only sacerdote who can wed us without our publishing banns first?”
“I know of no others. I have little use for priests. Remember when I told you I fell ill at the fortaleza and my men sent for the sacerdote? He refused to come anywhere near me, not even to anoint me before death. He feared catching what I had and told my men to send for him after they put me into the ground.”
“And he calls himself a man of God?”
“He never loved me as you do.” Tomás lifted the letter. “We should read the rest of this. Could be Enrique offered a suggestion we can use.”
The only other sacerdote I know is the one who was at the fortaleza for Fernando and Isabella. You remember him. I advise you not to seek him out.
“Why?” Beatriz asked.
“He discovered Isabella had lied, claiming to be Fernando’s betrothed when her sister Sancha actually was. Before he could do anything about the matter, we learned Don Rodrigo was pursuing Sancha to kill her so he could control the estate. Of course, Isabella was next in line for the inheritance, then her two younger sisters. Don Rodrigo would have had to murder them all and probably would have if given the chance.”
“And here I thought my father was good at plots. He could learn much from the family your brothers married into.”
“Best we not tell your papá and give him any ideas. Shall we resume reading?”
“Of course.”
Sancha can think of no one, either. If not for Bartolomé being newly born, we would visit to help you and Beatriz in this time of need. Perhaps Fernando has an answer for you.
My best, along with Sancha’s.
Your brother, Enrique
* * * *
During Beatriz and Tomás’s evening meal, a guard strode into the dining hall. She searched his face to see if anything was amiss.
His eyes and features gave away nothing. He bowed slightly. “A visitor requests entrance.”
She leaned toward Tomás. “Don Larnaz?”
“He had better not.” He frowned. “Your papá?”
She hoped not.
Tomás turned to the guard. “Who?”
“Señor Don Fernando.”
Tomás pushed away from the table so quickly his chair nearly tipped over. “My brother? Invite him onto the estate. Never keep him waiting.”
“No, Patrón.” The guard rushed from the dining hall.
Tomás took Beatriz’s hand. “Come.”
They ran through the castle to the front entrance and outside to wait. Tomás craned his neck, looking for Fernando.
Beatriz smoothed the sole gown she owned, the one she’d stolen from her papá’s housekeeper the day she’d fled his house. She’d feared traveling in silk or velvet lest someone recognized who she was and dragged her back to her father and Don Larnaz.
If only Fernando had waited a few weeks until she had her gowns. She didn’t want to embarrass Tomás with her poor clothes and wild hair. Wind pushed the locks into her cheeks and forehead.
“There.” He pointed at torchlight on the dark path. “He—wait. Fernando arrived in a carriage? Could he be ill? Why else would he be riding in that thing rather than on his Arabian?”
She shrugged.
The conveyance pulled close and stopped near the guards, each man holding a torch.
Tomás ran to the carriage. “Fernando!”
The door popped open. A man nearly as handsome as Tomás stepped out, hair dark, skin bronze, his doublet and robe a rich brown in the torchlight. He grinned. “How are you little brother?” He hugged Tomás, then tried to swing him around as one would a child.
Tomás punched Fernando’s shoulder.
Fernando laughed.
Tomás glowered. “How are you, besides trying to prove your waning strength? Are you so feeble now you have to ride in a carriage like a woman?”
From inside the conveyance, a woman asked, “What did you say?”
Fernando elbowed Tomás. “Watch your tongue around my wife and daughter.”
Oh no, he’d brought his entire family.
With Fernando’s assistance, Isabella left the carriage next, her skin milky and flawless, features exquisite, clothing worthy of a queen. Her gown was the finest blue silk trimmed with gold embroidery and beads. A large sapphire hung from a silver chain about her neck.
Isabella hugged Tomás. Spotting Beatriz, she grinned, her eyes sparkling, their color too pale to be brown. “Release me at once.” She slapped his shoulder. “I want to meet the woman who finally tamed you.”
Fernando smiled at Beatriz. Tomás held out his hand for her to join them.
Her legs weakened, her stomach even more unsettled at meeting anyone when she looked so dreadful.
Fierce pride and love filled Tomás’s smile. After taking her hand, he presented her. “Fernando, Isabella, this is Beatriz González y Serrano. She is lovelier than a summer’s day, fresher than a morning breeze, more passionate than—”
“You are exquisite.” Fernando kissed Beatriz’s knuckles. “How could a woman as perfect as you have given my brother a glance? Look at him.”
Tomás’s hair wiggled in the wind, the same as his linen shirt. His dark hose revealed his powerful build.
Beatriz’s legs weakened even more. “I have never seen a more splendid man. Look at me.” She gestured to her poor clothes.
Isabella fingered the lace-trimmed kirtle that reached her throat. “You should have seen how I used to dress. When Fernando escorted me across the countryside from Granada, where I was held prisoner for sale to the harem, before he rescued me, of course, he had me—”
“Rescue? Harem?”
Isabella nodded. Auburn tresses bobbed against her cheeks. “My uncle, the puto, had—”
“Wife.” Fernando pinched his nose. “We have spoken repeatedly about that word.”
“Forgive me.” She bent her head to Beatriz. “My uncle wanted Sancha kidnapped, not me. The fiends who carried out my uncle’s orders had no idea they took the wrong woman. I ended up in Granada, with the Sultan’s eunuch about to purchase me, when Fernando came to my rescue. Do you know about fakirs? I have never seen anything more incredible. Juggling hot coals, breathing fire. Fernando stunned the crowd. Me too. But I had to keep my wits about me to escape with him to Spain.” She paused to breathe. “Once we were back in our beloved country, he had me dress as a boy to avoid notice. Of course, there were thieves and brutes everywhere. At one point, I took his sword and had to save his life.”
Stunned, Beatriz looked at Fernando.
He gazed at his wife with boundless love. “Isabella was magnificent.”
She beamed. “If I can dress as
a boy, you can surely wear whatever you want.”
“At the moment, she has what she wears now and livery.” Tomás shrugged. “We ordered dozens of gowns. I wanted a hundred or more, but Beatriz declined so many. The garments have yet to arrive.”
Isabella smiled at her. “I have several with me. You can have whichever you want.”
“Oh no. You offer too much.”
“I insist. We can go through them while Fernando and Tomás discuss Spain’s latest battle with the Moors and Pedro’s role in the conflict.”
Tomás leaned toward Beatriz. “Another brother you must meet. He took over my command.” He glanced at Fernando. “Have you heard from him?”
“He sent a missive the other day saying all is well. The one he wrote to you will probably come shortly.”
“Good.”
A thin wail sounded followed by mewling and then a piercing cry.
“Juana.” Isabella frowned at Fernando and Tomás. “You men were speaking too loudly and woke her.” She smiled at Beatriz. “Would you care to see our daughter?”
She nodded.
Fernando helped a servant from the carriage, an older woman with a kind face. Juana shrieked. The gold blanket covering her flapped from her flailing limbs.
With the infant safely in her arms, Isabella presented her daughter.
Beatriz pressed her hands to her chest. The little girl was exquisite. She had her father’s dark hair, her mother’s light eyes. Her scrunched face and reddened skin spoke of her unhappiness, how helpless she was.
No different than Beatriz had been growing up, though Juana’s future would be far different.
Isabella bounced the infant lightly. Juana refused to settle. “She must be hungry. Is there a place where I can feed my daughter in private?”
Tomás stroked the babe’s cheek. “Beatriz will take you to our finest bedchamber.”
She brought Isabella to the one Señora Cisneros had always cleaned in case an important guest arrived. More than one servant had said the housekeeper hoped the monarchs would drop in since they’d moved the court to Jaen.
