“Are you certain, Malo? You might not be treated well by some…”
“I would,” Hector hastened to add, eager to have the burly man as his own personal bodyguard. “I would pay you well and give you a place in my house or build you your own. If you want to stay, you will want for nothing as long as it is in my power to provide it.”
Though he couldn’t see the captain’s expression, he could feel Nicolo’s gaze on both of them. If Malo came, everything would be perfect—someone to trust immediately and someone to protect him. He would have thought it predetermined except for the genuine surprise in Nicolo’s voice at the suggestion.
After what seemed an ominously long time, Nicolo shifted. “We will arrange it. I am sorry to lose you, Malo, but you have served my family well. I can trust you. I hope your life here is all that you could wish.”
Chapter Thirty
Exploring
“Sebastian, I have an assignment for you—something I believe you will enjoy.”
“What is it, Papa?” Sebastian hardly turned his head from his drawing, working hard to capture the outline of the castle being erected near the shores of Cartagena.
“I think your new skills might be very beneficial for this one. The governor is coming to draw up the contract for purchase of property for Hector.”
The news didn’t surprise him. His father would never do something so important in an unfamiliar and vulnerable place. However, something in his father’s tone caught his attention. “Why do you sound so excited?”
“I want you to explore as much of Cartagena as you can while the governor is aboard. You will be safe then because we have their governor, but you will be seen as a child if you play your part well.”
“What am I looking for, Papa?”
“A safe place to bury Hector’s money. You must remember exactly where you go and what you find. You must try to appear younger than you are—just a boy bent on having fun. You will go with Jaime and make a scene of running off when he isn’t looking.”
A grin spread across his face before Sebastian could prevent it. “Years of chafing against rules will pay off in a good performance this time.”
“Do not get any ideas about how it would be good for you to ignore my orders,” Nicolo teased.
He stood and dusted off his hands. “When do I go?”
“The moment the Governor’s boat arrives, you will leave with Jaime.”
Before Sebastian could answer, Jaime knocked on the door. “He’s almost here. We should go.”
“If you at any moment feel unsafe, run. Swim back to the ship.”
“Yes, Papa.”
They waited at the railing for the governor to climb aboard and then scurried down the rope on the other side. The smallest boat waited for them—a two man dingy that slid through the water with ease. They tethered it to a large post driven into the ground and strolled up the beach.
“What kind of place do I need to find? What makes a good hiding place? Papa didn’t have time to tell me.”
“You need some place inland. If you don’t, a storm that creates unusually high tides might reveal it. Rocks are good; look for places people will avoid.”
“In other words, I’ll have to be brave.”
“Definitely.”
Sebastian glanced around him. “Do you know where the property is that Hector hopes to have?” As Jaime pointed to the right, Sebastian nodded. “I’ll go left then. If anyone expects him to hide his money on his land, he will not find it. And, none of his laborers will accidentally unearth it.”
They wandered into town, Jaime pointing out the small market stalls and the church. Once they had a good audience, he stopped to admire a lizard, and Sebastian made his escape. Several men laughed, one tried to grab Sebastian’s arm, but he shrugged the man off and called back, “I’ll be back later, Jaime.”
He didn’t see as many children as he’d first expected. Though disappointed, it made sense. Soldiers and sailors made up the bulk of the population. Women were scarce and well-guarded it seemed. Perhaps women did not like life in the new world. He walked for hours in the hot, sticky air, looking for the kinds of places that would best protect the great quantity of money they must have, but little interested him. The man needed something protected but accessible. Hector would need a good reason to go to the place—wherever it was—to retrieve money when he needed it. In an odd or unusual place, people might become suspicious.
He grew too hot and very thirsty. Defeated, Sebastian returned to find Jaime seated beneath a canopy and sipping fruity drinks with some of the local sailors. “Where can I get water?” he choked out, his mouth dry and cottony.
“Here,” Jaime said as he passed the cup. “Try this. It is very refreshing.”
Before he realized it, he had drained it of every drop. “Sorry. I was thirstier than I knew.”
“Let’s take a walk. Perhaps we’ll see the boat returning.”
They strolled through the little town, speaking low and nodding as they passed a local. “Did you find something?”
“I didn’t. If it looked safe enough, there was no reason for him to go there. People would be suspicious. If the place looked reasonable for someone to visit, it seemed too vulnerable to—” Excitement welled in him, cutting off the rest of his words. He swallowed the temptation to cry out—to point.
“What is it?” Jaime hissed.
“The church. We can bury it in the graveyard behind the church. No one will expect it, and he will have to go there regularly. It makes sense.”
“I doubt that Hector will be a faithful worshiper.”
This was surprising news to Sebastian. “But will that not be suspicious? He has already been brought before the Inquisition. If he shows himself antagonistic…”
“You are beginning to think like your father, Sebastian. Nicolo will be proud.”
~~~~~~~~~~
It took weeks for a temporary shelter to be erected for Malo and Hector, but with the labor of native slaves, it went faster than anyone but Sebastian had expected. The young lad grew impatient to be away again, much to his own chagrin. He watched the progress, begging to help at times, and worked to help find a way to bury Hector’s gold and silver.
At last, Nicolo decided on a plan—foolproof. Jaime was dispatched to bring Hector and Malo to the house although it was not yet finished. News spread through Cartagena—a death on The Vengeance. Fever.
“Papa, do you think it will work?”
“It must. They will allow us to bury a Christian man such as Giorgio. We will ask that they stay back until we have him buried. We will put slabs of stone over the grave to keep the fever from spreading. It will work.”
Sebastian wasn’t sure. “But when he needs to get his money…”
“He’ll keep a good quantity of it with him. They will think it is all he has. If he must dig into his stores, he’ll make it look like someone is robbing other graves too. It will work. Malo will protect him. If they must, they’ll move the money.”
“I suppose…”
Doubt remained in Sebastian’s mind, even as six men rowed the casket to the shore and carried it to the graveyard. Once buried, he knew the priest would come say a prayer over a sailor who died without final communion—without the blessing of the priest. What would that be like? Prayers for a dead man. How could that help? Then again, it might be comforting—if Giorgio had really been dead. How many times had they lost a man to sea or battle and only Jaime in his cabin with his beads and prayers had taken the time to ask God to preserve the sailor’s soul.
“We leave soon, Sebastian,” Jaime said as he joined the row of men on deck. “Are you ready to get out to sea, or do you still want to take up life on land?”
“I want to leave here. I don’t like it. Something about this place makes me uneasy. I’ve never wanted to leave any place as much as I do here.”
“We sail on Friday It will take that much time to have food sent over. Your papa has purchased animals, wine, everythi
ng we could need. It will be a long voyage.”
“We’re not going back, are we?”
“No, but we have to learn this place. We’ll be at sea for a long time, finding ships to keep us fed and happy. But The Vengeance will return here every couple of months for a year or two.”
“Will you tell a story tonight?”
Jaime nodded. “I think it’s time. Hector is gone, and the men need a distraction. You’ll have to play your flute as well—perhaps after you finish eating, while I am getting ready.”
Sebastian stood at the railing long after the others had lost their interest in the proceedings. He gazed out over the trees, the shore, the little houses and the larger castle being built to fortify the city against another attack. The settlement offered everything he’d ever dreamed of in a place to live, but he wanted nothing more than to be gone.
Darkness fell as the men rowed back, but still Sebastian stared out into the inky blackness. Little specks of light shone on land, but the lad didn’t feel the warmth of hominess that he expected. His imagination grew wild as he stared back at the dots of light. They seemed as eyes, boring into his soul—seeing all that he was and did not want to be. Those lights, if they could, would float across the water and fill him, until every bit of ugliness and darkness in him had been exposed.
He shook himself. Such thoughts were dangerous things. They would haunt his dreams and make him even more dissatisfied with his life. He must never allow anyone—not anyone—to see the weak person hidden under his bravado. That would be the one thing worse than living with such weakness. His father would never respect him then. Never.
Long after the men were eating hungrily, laughing and joking about the long and terrified faces of the locals, Sebastian finally turned to gather his own plate. Seeing Jaime nearly finished, he ran for his flute, playing it as he returned. Food must wait until Jaime began his story.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Legend: Part Seven
As he enjoyed his dinner, Sebastian closed his eyes and savored the scents and sounds of the new world that was now their home. The sea was the sea—everywhere they went—but it had an exotic feel to it in this hot place. Though he found the rocking of the boat to be familiar, he knew the water beneath him was new. That clear, blue, beautiful Caribbean water. The joking, laughing—it was the story of his life, just as Jaime told the story of lives from nearly three hundred years earlier.
“Jaime?”
His friend stopped mid-sentence and turned to him, curiosity in the young man’s voice. “Did I skip something?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No. I just wondered. Is the story true? Was there really a Joseph?”
“I have,” Jaime began, sounding exceedingly cautious. It seemed odd, but Jaime’s next words were stranger. “—tried to stick to the story as I know it, but the details are, of course, my own making. I don’t know how de Gyll or Ingleby felt. I only imagine.”
The realization that he had interrupted hit Sebastian like an unexpected gust of wind. “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just thinking—sorry.”
Jaime smiled at him and turned back to the group. “As I was saying, the man was in pain—clutching his chest and gasping for air.”
Word spread of the Statute. The family of Joseph ben Saolomon had been spared the loss that came with revoked debts that the moneylenders had expected to provide for their families for decades. It took months, sometimes years, to learn the fate of friends left behind, but none had fared as well as Joseph’s children and grandchildren in Calais. His foresight secured the futures of generations.
One by one, his grandchildren married. Their businesses prospered in this place. Yes, they found more competition amongst those in nearby places, but his shrewd mind and business tactics kept his financial empire growing through the years.
His Rebekah forgot the loss of their luxuries as their fortunes recovered. Their grandchildren never knew the fear of want—and it haunted him. “What you do not remember, you will not avoid,” he often said. Joseph, on the other hand, remembered all too well.
“You must never forget,” he whispered to his great grandson. “Never forget who you are and who your God is. We are Jews. We are God’s chosen people as far back as Abraham.”
Whenever he was home, the others left him to tell stories to the children. “Keeps him out from under foot,” the daughters and granddaughters said. Rebekah didn’t correct them. She knew. His time with those children ensured the continuation of their family and faith—a priceless gift. They needed the wisdom that only a grandfather can bestow.
“Women are stronger than we know and weaker than they think,” he murmured as Miriam burst into the room with the news that her best candlesticks were gone—inexplicably vanished. She’d endured the loss of baby after baby just weeks after learning they were coming without a tear, but steal her candlesticks and she acted as if the angel of death had stolen away her only living child.
“Miriam, is it possible that Abel has taken them to be appraised?”
She whipped her head around, tendrils bouncing against her nose as she stared at him, shocked. “You’re right. He did mention that a month or two ago. How did you know?”
“He asked me for a recommendation when he got them, but things have been—uncertain since then.” Understanding dawned as the young woman gulped down air, trying to gain some composure. “How long before—”
“Two weeks.”
“Stay off your feet. Drink and eat well. Abel can manage with Joel until the danger has passed. You should come to us. I will speak to him.”
Joseph stood, carried the child sleeping in his arms to its mother and then led Miriam to his chair. “Sit. Rest. I will speak to Abel.”
Without waiting for her objections, Joseph grabbed his hat and hurried into the street. He rarely went to the counting rooms anymore—just to oversee a few days a month. The boys thought he had earned a supervisory role. When they had doubts, he’d sit there in the corner, as if asleep, and watch. He was seldom wrong.
This time, he entered and pointed to Abel. “In there, please.”
“What is it?”
“Please.”
With the door shut, Joseph pointed to the closest chair and suggested his grandson sit there. “Your wife is with child again.” The discouragement—pain—on Abel’s face nearly broke his heart, but Joseph refused to be distracted. “She will stay with us a fortnight or two. Joel will come to work with you for the morning and then you can take him to Jacob’s for dinner.”
“But—”
“You will show her that her pain matters! You will show your wife—” Pain ripped through him, making Joseph gasp the next words, “—that you will protect her!”
“Grandpapa?”
“I am fine,” Joseph lied, forcing himself not to sit. That weakness would mean a houseful of hens clucking over him—unnecessary. Had not the first pain those fifteen years ago been a solitary event? It must be indigestion again. “My Rebekah makes my food so rich, and a rush here is exhaustion for an old man.”
“You’re not old, Grandpapa!” Seconds ticked past until Abel spoke again. “Miriam will worry about Joel. I don’t think—”
“The women will keep you fed. You might have to scrub a floor or wash a shirt or two, but you will survive. You will not refuse me this. That woman will have the knowledge that if she loses this baby it is not because she worked herself to its death. Do you understand me?”
Outranked, Abel nodded. “You are right, of course. I am being selfish.”
“You are being human. Sometimes though, my Abel, a man must be angelic. Come to us tonight. We will at least start you with a good meal.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner was quieter than their usual chatty affairs. Miriam and Abel spent most of the meal whispering between themselves, while Rebekah urged Joel to eat more. Satisfaction filled Joseph’s heart as he gazed at the faces of his grandchildren.
“I was thinking, Rebekah, that co
ming here kept us closer as a family. This is a smaller place and we were strangers. In London, Abel would have moved further out even than Jacob did. We would hardly have known him as a married man—Joel, almost not at all.”
“Calais has been good to us.”
His hands folded over a full stomach and he sighed with satisfaction. “God has been good to us here in Calais. Our children’s children will prosper because of this place.”
They heard a commotion outside the door and Jacob’s voice thundering through the hall as he raced to the dining room and flung open the door. “Papa! An edict from King Edward” He reached the table, gripping a chair as he panted for fresh air. “It is called the Edict of Expulsion. Jews in England have until November first to get out.”
Joseph’s eyes grew wide. It had come then. This would not stop with England. It would spread to Spain, France, and slowly across Europe. Anywhere that Rome controlled would drive out the Jews. The life they had made would be lost when France or Holland took up the cry against Jewry.
Pain crept over him. Beads of perspiration grew, but all Joseph could think of was how to protect his family. Rebekah called out his name, but she sounded so very far away. Where had she gone? They were all leaving. The pain grew stronger, more intense. He clutched at his heart again, gasping out one name.
“Jacob.”
“I’m here, Papa.”
Again, his son sounded as if walking into another room, but Joseph felt Jacob’s hand on his arm. “You-must-watch. Protect. Prepare. Your mother.”
“What am I to do? Are we not safe here?”
“It will—” Joseph fumbled for his wine, desperate for something to keep him going. “Spread,” he gasped. “This is only the beginning. With the ledgers. I have notes. Read them carefully.”
A scream filled the room and yet seemed to flee from him. Joseph’s eyes refused to see the faces that loomed over him. A guttural groan came—seemingly from nowhere—but at the wailing and weeping of his Rebekah, he understood. The groan was his. Blackness crept over him as the pain became unbearable.
Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) Page 19
