by Johnny Miles
Casa Rodrigo
Johnny Miles
Casa Rodrigo
Copyright © May 2010 by Johnny Miles
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Chapter One
Andalusia, Spain
July 1647
Gasping, her body slick with sweat, the naked woman raced through the
forest, then stopped dead in her tracks, unsure of which way to go. But any
direction had to be better than where she'd come from. There was no way the cruel
white devil with his foreign tongue would ever touch her again. She would rather
die. And she would have already welcomed death in despair but for the newborn she
clutched to her breast.
Her eyes enlarged, as if trying to capture whatever light they could. If only the
cloudy sky would part and allow the moon to guide her.
And then the woman saw the faint glimmer of a light through the branches.
Was it possible? Were the gods listening to her prayers? What if the light turned out
to be her pursuer's torch?
Behind her, she heard rustling, a horse snorting. She could ill afford hesitation
now. She raced toward the light. Anything had to be better than being recaptured
like an animal.
The woman was barely aware she had emerged from the forest and was now in
a wide field, an open target. Her mind played a funny trick, and there was an odd
moment where she wondered if this was how a hunted animal felt.
No! I'm not an animal. I am a woman. Not a piece of meat. She sprinted
onward. In the near distance was the silhouette of a house. The light she'd followed
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came from one of the rooms inside. She could make out an open window. She could
see a shadow. Someone moved inside.
She gave a little moan of gratitude and hoped they would give her refuge.
Hoped she could get there in time. She tried to run faster but stumbled and nearly
lost her balance.
A grunt escaped her as she stubbed her toe on a rock. Then she whimpered,
realizing the sound had given her away. She ran even faster. The house loomed
closer. Just a few more feet. She could just make out the courtyard, the large
wooden door.
“Help me!” she cried out in her native tongue. But no one heard. Her voice
cracked, and the words came out like a croak.
Behind her, that horrible sound thundered.
She tried to find more speed. Instead she felt an odd sensation as if something
was coming close to her, faster than she could run. A prickling sensation spread up
and down her sweating back, sending a chill down her spine that expanded to her
limbs.
And somehow, she knew it was coming for her.
The baby in her arms began to complain about the jostling, the irritation of
being disturbed from his sleep.
“No, no! Ssshh,” the woman moaned softly.
As the bullet entered her flesh, the woman screamed, finally finding her voice.
She only hoped it would mask the sound of her crying child.
The scream echoed in the night air. Several dogs responded, which in turn
alarmed the roosters.
The woman fell, her arms wrapped around her baby. She screamed again as
the bones in her arms snapped, and she rolled onto her back. She continued moving,
though everything seemed so much slower now.
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Using her feet and long, powerful legs, she managed to push herself along the
ground until she was in the courtyard of the house.
She didn't know how long she lay there. She only knew there was the sound of
a door opening, and she thought she heard a gasp, thought she saw light even as
blackness threatened to overtake her.
“Please! My baby!” she moaned. Then, realizing they might not understand
her, she tried to lift her arms, offer her son to the family living in the house. But her
arms didn't respond. She winced in pain and wrapped her lips around her teeth to
keep from screaming again.
As she began to fade, she thought back to her life in her homeland. Her village
had been peaceful. Simple. She thought of her family, the other villagers. She
wondered if she would see any of them again on the other side. Was there another
side?
She was barely aware of someone pulling at her. Her eyes fluttered open
briefly, and she thought she saw her baby fly through the air. Fly. She hoped he
would be well.
That powerful beast of a man from her tribe had given her this wonderful
baby. She couldn't regret all of it. But oh, if only she hadn't walked away from her
people just to lie with him, the man who made her legs go limp and her poonani
flow like a river. She had been unable to resist him. He had such a beautiful smile
and knew how to please a woman. And he had been such a gentle lover.
And then the slavers had found them.
But she clung still to the sweet memory. It pleased her—made her feel good.
The pain seemed to ebb as warmth spread through her body. It felt as if she were
experiencing him all over again. He had done things to her no other man had done.
He had made her see the gods when they came together. She knew it was wrong,
knew she was now spoiled for any other man, but it had felt so good. So right. And
the sensation had moved the earth beneat
h her writhing body. It was as if she
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would surely die at that moment, with a portion of the powerful man's spirit, his
very life, inside her. Surely that was worth some sacrifice?
Unable to sleep, Bernardo de Rodrigo sat at his desk with an open book. He
was rereading El Abencerraje, author unknown, included in Jorge de Montemayor's
pastoral novel, Los siete libros de la Diana. It was a tumultuous story recounting
the tale of Abindarráez, the valiant, beautiful, and noble Moor captured by Rodrigo
de Narváez, a Christian soldier. The honorable Rodrigo lets the Moor leave to marry
Jariffa, the Muslim woman he loves, provided he return three days hence. It never
failed to move Bernardo, and he wished there had been a great love in his life, not
the woman chosen for him by his father.
That was when he heard the scream.
Bernardo was on his feet in an instant. He picked up the lantern, raced across
the room, and threw open the door.
As he was halfway down the stairs, a voice called out to him.
“Bernardo? Qué pasó?” It was his wife, Adelina. He saw her long black braid
tossed over one shoulder as she clutched at her nightgown, a look of worry on her
face.
“I don't know what happened, Adelina. Go back to bed. I'll go check,” Bernardo
replied. But he knew his wife; she would no doubt follow him. There might be no
love between them, but they were good friends. In some ways he thought that was
sometimes better. Loving someone only led to heartache.
Another scream pierced his ears as he put the lantern down on the side table
and readied one of the pistols hanging on the wall.
A warning voice inside him cautioned Bernardo to stop. To turn around, return
to bed. Whatever was happening outside was none of his issue. Lately, odd things
had been happening through the countryside.
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But curiosity got the best of him. He unbolted the door and pulled. It creaked
open and he stepped out.
Stunned, Bernardo gasped at the sight of the naked African woman dragging
herself through their courtyard. There was something in her arms. He lifted the
lantern and saw the bones through the skin, saw the blood smeared on the ground.
“Dios mío!” Adelina muttered behind him. “Is that a child?”
Bernardo was aware of Adelina crouching beside him to pick up the baby. He
stepped forward, covering her. No doubt, if the woman was being chased, someone
would want the baby as well.
Raising the lantern higher, Bernardo saw the shadow of a man in the distance.
He approached, mounted on a horse and carrying a torch. Without seeing his face,
Bernardo knew who it was instantly and bristled. Raúl Ignacio Velasco.
“Adelina, adentro. Ahora!” Bernardo cautioned his wife to go back inside. He
only hoped the darkness cast enough shadow to cover them.
As Bernardo watched, Adelina rushed inside, clutching the baby tightly. She
handed him over to the elder of their twins, Alonso, who had come running down
the stairs with his brother, Fernando, shortly after the second scream.
Then she turned back around, closed the door behind her, and stood beside
him just as the man on horse came into view.
“Velasco,” Bernardo said warily. “What are you doing?”
“Stay out of it, de Rodrigo,” the man warned, carefully dismounting.
Bernardo and Adelina could see their neighbor had been drinking, as he nearly
set the horse on fire with his torch. The animal flinched and stepped sideways.
“Who is she?” Adelina demanded.
“She's mine. One of the slaves I brought back with me from La Española,” Raúl
said absentmindedly.
The tall, wiry man with the scrappy beard approached the woman and
crouched beside her. He placed a hand on her chest, then leaned farther to listen to
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her heart. Bernardo was both appalled by her nudity and aroused at the same time.
And yet this was not how he wanted to see a naked woman—dead or dying, let
alone in front of his wife.
Raúl made a sound of disgust as he stood.
“Goddamnit! She's dead. Lucky shot,” Raúl bragged and sniffed airily. But
Bernardo knew better. Raúl was the best marksman in all of Andalusia. As he had
proved repeatedly, drunk or not, with almost every man—and sometimes every
boy—who came to challenge him for his title.
“Where's the baby?” Raúl asked suddenly.
“What baby?” Bernardo replied, cautious.
“The baby in her arms! The newborn! Surely she had it with her. You couldn't
miss it. Although”—he looked around—“in this dark night, it would be easy to
miss.” He chuckled as if he had just told the most amusing joke.
“Perhaps she dropped it,” Adelina suggested.
“Adelina, please,” Bernardo muttered. “I'll handle this.”
“No matter,” Raúl continued, ignoring her. “If you see the filthy beast or hear
it, make sure to let me know. You'll be well rewarded.”
“I think you should leave now,” Bernardo suggested, his voice tight. Raúl was
not the type of man to be offended. He was armed, and no matter how much
advantage Bernardo might have with his pistol already loaded, he knew he wouldn't
stand a chance against Raúl.
“You're a brave man standing up to me, Bernardo. One of the many things I've
always admired about you.” Raúl smiled crookedly and eyed him appreciatively. It
made Bernardo nervous.
“Que te vayas ya!” Bernardo took a step forward and hollered at Raúl to leave
immediately. Raúl flinched in surprise. Even Adelina jumped. Bernardo had never
raised his voice that way before in front of them.
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Raúl glared at Bernardo, then at Adelina. He chuckled and laughed
lasciviously, looking from Bernardo to Adelina and back again.
“I'm asking you as a gentleman, Raúl. Leave my house now, and take the dead
woman with you.”
“Está bien,” Raúl said with a grin and raised his arms in amusement. “She's no
good to me now, you know. She died on your property. But since I'm such a good
neighbor and we're such long, dear friends…” Raúl trailed off with an odd look on
his face. Bernardo thought he resembled a wolf. He watched Raúl stoop down and
grab the woman by an ankle. He dragged her just outside the courtyard and
lowered his torch to her.
“Animal!” Adelina cried, moving out from behind him. Raúl stopped and looked
over his shoulder at her.
“Fine. I'll spare you your sensitive, aristocratic tastes,” Raúl said and spit at
the naked body of the dead African woman. “You dispose of her. At least she's not in
your courtyard anymore. If you like I'll even come back in the morning and say a
prayer for her.”
Bernardo and Adelina watched as Raúl mounted his horse, then raced off into
the night with laughter. As he rode, the light of the moon followed. It was almost as
if Raúl's horse were pulling some invisible line that made a rift between them.
“I hate that man,” Adelina said with a ferocity Bernardo had never heard
before from her. �
�I wish he were dead!” They looked at each other. Quietly, he
handed his wife the lantern and went off in search of a shovel.
Upstairs in their bedroom, Fernando stood at the window peering out while
Alonso sat in bed and cradled the little black baby. He had never seen anything so
tiny before, so dark, its hair sparse and standing up.
“He's leaving!” Fernando whispered harshly. “Father must have scared him
off.” He ran out of the room, more interested in the excitement and danger than in
the oddity Alonso held in his arms.
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As his brother raced down the stairs, Alonso looked down at the baby and said,
“Don't worry, little one. You're safe here with us. As long as I'm here, nothing bad
will happen to you. I promise.”
The black baby opened his eyes and blinked at Alonso as if he had understood.
He then yawned, stretched, and turned his face into Alonso's chest as he went back
to sleep.
Casa Rodrigo
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Chapter Two
October 1652
Adelina pretended to listen to the latest gossip from one of the wives she
disliked but had to put up with since she was married to one of Bernardo's business
associates.
Adelina furrowed her brow and looked around as if searching for someone. “So
very sorry, Marianna. Will you please excuse me? I just remembered something
urgent that I need to talk to my husband about.”
As she stood, the other women made room for her, while the one talking simply
continued, nonplussed.
Adelina sighed. What was happening to her? Most of these women were her
friends, people with whom she'd grown up. Why did she feel more distant from them
with each passing year? Was it truly as simple as their views growing more and
more apart?
Sometimes she really disliked the women in her social circle. They were
starting to sound like vindictive cats, their tails swishing back and forth, lashing at
whoever wasn't there. God only knew what they were going to say about her now
