Paula Reed - [Caribbean]
Page 15
“Mary Magdalene—” the Blessed Mother warned.
“Just watching!” Magdalene snapped. “I didn’t say a word.”
“We must tell them everything,” Tomás said.
God help me not to be a coward, Diego prayed. Magdalena, give me courage. If Father Tomás thought Diego should speak of Magdalena, he must believe she was real and holy. “They will burn me,” he whispered.
“You are a Catholic. They will not burn you.”
“They will sentence me to slavery for witchcraft.”
“If you refuse to name the source of your knowledge, they will turn you over to the Inquisition for questioning. We cannot allow that. To begin, I do not think you will take well to their means of extracting answers. Also, few are found innocent. If you go before the Inquisition, you will indeed be sentenced to slavery or whipping unlike any you have ever given upon your ship. We must try to settle this with the bishop, here.”
That was what Magdalena had said. Diego began to relax. He trusted Father Tomás, and if Tomás and Magdalena trusted each other, he had a chance.
“Very well.”
“Since all that you have confessed here is related, your lust for Mary Kate being a part of your visions of Magdalena, you may consider what follows your penance. Give thanks to the Lord for he is good.”
“For his mercy endures forever.”
“The Lord has freed you from your sins, go in peace.”
“Thanks be to God. And thank you, Father.”
Side by side, in their separate compartments, both men made the sign of the cross and stepped back into the sanctuary. The conversation among Mary Kate, Enrique and his entourage, the bishop, and Don Juan came to an abrupt halt.
Father Tomás gave the bishop a steady look. “Bishop Álvarez, do you think, perhaps, this discussion should take place in one of our offices?”
The heat of the discussion with everyone in the sanctuary had deepened the natural ruddiness of Bishop Álvarez’s complexion, and his red robes accentuated it further. Vigorously nodding his head, he said, “Yes, my office. I will talk with you alone first.”
Father Tomás turned to Diego. “May I speak freely to him of our conversation?”
Diego hesitated. “There was so little time. I could not give you all the details. Do you not think I should come, too?”
“Were there any terribly important details that you left out?”
“Not that I can think of, but should the bishop think of something—”
“I think Bishop Álvarez is right. He and I should talk, first.”
“But—”
“Diego?”
He had almost forgotten Mary Katherine was still there. “¿Sí? I mean, yes?”
“What’s happening? Surely they’re not talking heresy?”
Diego and Father Tomás winced, but no one else present spoke English, so the word gained no further reaction.
“Mary Katherine,” Tomás said in English, “right now, it would be best if you said as little as possible.”
“I am afraid that is not her nature,” Diego said.
“You don’t think I can keep my mouth shut when there’s a need?”
Diego clenched his fists to keep from shaking her and spoke softly so he would not shout. “This is a most delicate situation, Mary Kate.”
“These men claim this woman is further evidence against Captain Montoya,” the bishop said. “They say he has been obsessed with her since they found her on board a pirate ship. A pirate ship Captain Montoya seemed to have knowledge of well before it could be seen, even through a spyglass. They tell me she murdered a pirate.”
“She killed a pirate, yes,” Diego said, switching back to Spanish. “It was in self-defense. She had been their prisoner.”
Thank goodness for Galeno’s Spanish lessons, Mary Kate thought. She had understood the first part of that very clearly. “You’re damned right I killed that pirate!” Then she blushed and bobbed a quick curtsey to the bishop and priest. “Begging your pardons.”
Tomás cast a pleading look to Don Juan, who had been absorbing the exchange in thoughtful silence. “Perhaps you could take Señorita O’Reilly elsewhere.”
“Indeed,” Juan agreed. “Although I hate to leave Diego in such a difficult time.”
Bishop Álvarez took the situation in hand. “Captain Montoya, Señor Sánchez, you and the others shall await us in Father Tomás’s office while he and I speak in mine. Señor Gallegos, I shall place Señorita O’Reilly in your custody. Your home is in El Centro, no?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Good. I shall wish to call her back for questions at some point, I am sure.”
Juan bowed slightly. “Certainly. She will await your pleasure.”
“You must go with Don Juan,” Diego said to Mary Kate.
“But I want to know what’s going on, and he doesn’t speak English!”
“The bishop commands you.”
“But—”
“The Church is the Church, María Catalina, in Ireland or Cartagena.”
“But—”
Father Tomás stepped in. “The penance I have prescribed will leave you very hungry come the next Mass. It would pain me to add more days of fasting for disobeying Bishop Álvarez.”
Mary Kate looked down at the ledger she had set on a pew before she had begun her rosary. Finally, for the first time in years, she’d had a nice, clean soul. Damn it! She quickly assumed a manner of meek contrition. “You don’t think it would be better if I stayed?”
“No!” Tomás and Diego chimed together.
“Well, fine, then! I’ll not trouble you any further with any help from me!”
If the situation were any less dire, Diego might have appreciated the irony in that statement. As it was, he was simply relieved to watch Don Juan escort her from the church.
Chapter Fourteen
The moment Father Tomás closed the door to his very spare office and left Diego alone with his men, Diego exploded.
“What do you think you are doing? My own men betraying me! Did you never think to come to me with your suspicions—to ask me directly what was going on?”
“You knew the men’s suspicions, Captain. You spoke of them to me.”
“Too much time for gossip, you said! Until you saw some sign that I came by it dishonestly, you would count my luck as yours. Do you remember this conversation, Enrique?”
“Yes, I remember it. I also remember weeks later when you commanded half the men below deck, gaining the element of surprise in an attack against a pirate ship you could not possibly have known was there! I remember you talking to the devil about another pirate ship that again could not be seen, only to flee from them to the protection of a flota. How did you know about the flota? Even the lookout did not know it was there when you told us to sail toward it.”
“Did it never occur to you that perhaps such knowledge was a blessing? You would have died that day, Enrique. We could neither have outrun nor outfought that Cromster, and you know it!”
“I would have trusted God to see us through or save our souls, but I will not stay on board a ship of the devil! How much longer do you think God will tolerate this?”
“I am not allied to the devil! This is a serious charge, Enrique. This is my life you have placed in peril!”
“What about the woman, Captain?” one of Enrique’s cohorts asked. “You may dine with the door open, but anyone can see there is something sinful going on between you.”
Diego glowered at him with nearly black eyes. “I should have you whipped for that, José. It is not enough that you accuse me of heresy. You impugn my honor and that of a virtuous woman under my protection!” Well, reasonably virtuous. “I should run you through with my sword. She is a beautiful woman, and I am a man, but I would never disgrace her or myself by taking advantage of her plight. And speaking of sin, what did you do the night you were in La Habana, may I ask?”
That silenced any further protest from José.
Diego calmed a bit. He and Enrique had been friends, once. “Thank you,” he said to his first mate. “I appreciate your coming here instead of going straight to the Inquisition.”
“It seemed like mere good luck, at first,” Enrique said. “But I could not account for your ability to see the future. And I will say the woman worries me. As you have said, it is most unlike you to compromise a woman under your care, but it seems very much like you have done just this. Forgive me, Captain, but you look at each other, touch each other like the most intimate of lovers.”
Diego sank into a hard wooden chair behind Father Tomás’s tiny desk. “God help me, Enrique. Would you have me forfeit my life because I protected yours and was foolish enough to be tempted by a woman?”
“Gabriel is right. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear.”
How could he tell them that even Father Tomás and María Magdalena feared the Inquisition?
*
“So, did he confess an alliance with the devil?” Bishop Álvarez asked. His office was as comfortable as Tomás’s was spare. The stone floor was covered in a deep, wool carpet; his desk was large and the chair padded.
Tomás lowered himself into a visitor’s chair much like his own in his office, small and uncomfortable, but the difference between his and the bishop’s office did not bother him. Rank had its privileges, but it also had its pitfalls. “His was a most remarkable confession.”
Bishop Álvarez shook his head. “It is one thing to send Jews and heathens before the Holy Office, but a son of Spain? A friend of Juan Gallegos Lucero y Esquibel de Aguilar? It will be devastating to Señor Gallegos.”
“I do not think so. You see, Diego did not confess to any dark alliance. He told me he has been visited by a saint.”
Bishop Álvarez huffed. “A saint?”
“María Magdalena, for whom his ship is named.”
“What has this Diego Montoya done that he would be worthy of such an honor, and on what holy quest has she sent him?”
“Diego is one of the most selfless men I have ever known. He is loyal to Spain and the Church. As for the quest—to help rid Tierra Firme of the plague of heretical pirates, certainly.”
Bishop Álvarez took a breath as if to speak, then fell silent for a moment longer. Finally, he said, “Would a saint not choose a galleon captain? The captain of a small merchant ship is hardly able to make much difference against the pestilence that infects the seas.”
“Saints have been known to appear to the lowly. Such men provide more inspiration to the masses. If the captain of a small merchant ship can take up God’s cause upon the sea, then a galleon captain should be ashamed to do anything less.”
“Really, Tomás, a saint?”
“Why should the devil be more likely than a saint? Is good not stronger than evil?”
“Perhaps we should bring this to the Holy Office.”
“Perhaps you are right. Think how exciting it would be if the Grand Inquisitor should discover a miracle right here in Cartagena! He would be famous throughout Tierra Firme and Spain!”
“A miracle?”
“Visitations by a saint that have saved the lives of our sailors and ended the lives of heretics and pirates? I should think it a miracle, indeed! Why, if the Grand Inquisitor were to bring this to light—”
“But it will have been I who brought it to light,” Bishop Álvarez reminded him.
Tomás smiled benignly. “Yes, at first, but it will be the Grand Inquisitor who proclaims it thus. Naturally, where the credit for the discovery is ultimately given is of little importance.” Unless, certainly, one has political aspirations, Tomás thought to himself, aspirations such as Bishop Álvarez’s.
“No, no importance at all,” the bishop mumbled. “But where does the woman fit into all this?”
“Hers is an interesting role. Diego says she looks like his vision. Given that she, too, is part of Magdalena’s plan to cleanse the sea of pirates, this is quite conceivable.”
“A part of the plan?”
“She did kill a pirate captain. You have seen the girl yourself. So small and delicate a creature would need the strength of God to perform such a task.”
“Yes, I spent a bit of time with her while you were hearing Montoya’s confession. Small she is, but hardly delicate.”
“Spirited, Your Excellency, spirited. But still too small to have brought justice to a large and violent criminal all on her own.”
“Hmmm…and too spirited to be the image of a saint. The men I spoke with say she and the captain have been committing unclean acts on board his ship.”
“I have heard both of their confessions, and I can assure you, they do not have intimate knowledge of each other.”
“Even in their thoughts?”
Tomás wished that Bishop Álvarez were the kind of man he could simply be frank with. With certain other priests, he could remind them of their own youths, before they had taken vows, when girls had been pretty and wondrously distracting. It had been a very long time since Father Tomás had kissed a girl, but he had not forgotten. Somehow he doubted the bishop had ever spoken to a pretty girl for any other reason than to dole out her penance for daring to be gay.
“They have gratefully accepted penance for the good of their souls,” Tomás replied.
Bishop Álvarez leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps there is no need to trouble the Grand Inquisitor with this. The Holy Office exists to deal in heresies, not miracles. I must speak with this Diego Montoya.”
“As you think best, Your Excellency. It is growing late. Might you wish to dine first? I can have something brought to you.”
“Thank you, Tomás. Actually, I would prefer to wait until tomorrow so I might draw up a list of questions, but I would be dismayed to find Captain Montoya gone before I can settle this.”
“Diego would never leave without your permission, but perhaps you could ask Juan Gallegos to take him, as well. Señor Gallegos can be trusted to make sure Diego returns.”
“See to it, Tomás. You are dismissed.”
*
By the time Diego arrived at Don Juan’s, Mary Kate had decided to forgive him for being so rude in the cathedral. For one thing, she had to acknowledge that he was under a great deal of stress, and she was genuinely worried about him. For another, no one in the Gallegos household spoke English, and she was near to crazy for someone to talk to! She had been waiting for him in the drawing room, and the sight of his furrowed brow and the grim set of his mouth melted the last traces of her pique.
“Not the Inquisition!” she cried.
“Not yet.” He dropped his lean frame into one of the tapestry-covered chairs in the richly appointed room. “Father Tomás has convinced the bishop that this is not yet a matter for the Inquisition.”
Mary Kate crossed herself. “Thank God for that.”
“I will be questioned tomorrow. In time, I think they will question you, as well.”
“And I shall tell them of how bravely and honorably you have acted in all the short time I have known you.”
“There are things I must tell you. I want you to hear them from me, first.”
“I’ll never believe you committed any act of heresy,” she said, but she felt a tingle of apprehension all the same. What could he possibly want to tell her?
“The first time you saw me, did I seem at all familiar? Did you have no sense that you had known me before?”
“How could I? I have never been to Spain or any of her lands. Had you ever been to Ireland or England?”
“No, not like that. Had you ever dreamt of me?”
Mary Kate shifted in her own chair and looked away. Why was Diego asking her these things? Such silly romantic notions had hardly been a part of what had gone on between them. Then she remembered him asking her this before, murmuring these questions in the heat of passion.
She struggled to answer as gently as possible. “Of course I dreamt I would someday find a handsome and noble man. Not a nobleman, God help me, but a man like yourself. You’re just the sort of man every girl dreams of.”
“But you never dreamed of me, Diego Montoya?”
“I’d never met you, Diego.”
“But I had met you. I recognized you the second I laid eyes on you on the deck of that pirate ship. Only, you were not who I thought you were.”
“And who was that?”
“María Magdalena.”
“A Spanish girl?”
“Santa María Magdalena.”
“Saint Mary Magdalene? From the Bible, Mary Magdalene?”
“You think I am crazy.”
“I don’t know what to think, that’s sure. Why would you think such a thing as that?”
“I told you I had dreams.”
“About pirate ships, aye.”
“You asked me who I was talking to.”
“And you said it were yourself.”
“I lied.”
Mary Kate stood and began to pace. “You don’t lie, Diego.”
“I lied then. I was talking to Magdalena. She has been coming to me in times of crisis for three years now.”
“Saints preserve us! Are you sure?”
He laughed without mirth. “No. If you suddenly started to see and hear a saint, would you be sure?”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine.”
He stood, too, and took her hand, in part out of the need to touch her and in part to stop her pacing. “At first, I did not question her. She offered me comfort. She kept my crew and my ship safe. She brought me honor. Why would I question?”
“Then why do you question now?”
“She promised me love. She promised me a woman.”