Paula Reed - [Caribbean]

by Nobodys Saint

  Bishop Álvarez gave a nod of satisfaction.

  Diego sat very still and carefully avoided looking at Mary Kate. He supposed she had stopped somewhere short of actually lying, but she was giving testimony to a bishop, and he was not sure how close to lying she could come without landing them both in Purgatory for several thousand years. Resisted her at every turn? He could still taste her mouth, her skin, still feel the heat of her pressed against him.

  He glanced at Father Tomás, who said nothing further about either of the confessions he had heard.

  “I have more questions about the nature of your visions,” Bishop Álvarez said, and Diego was relieved at the change of subject.

  When asked what he believed about God, Jesus, and the Bible, he dutifully recited the Apostle’s Creed. His other answers were as suitably appropriate. No, he had not discussed matters of theology with María Magdalena. No, she had not in any way attempted to undermine any of the things he had been taught in church. She had never done anything more than to assure him that he was a good captain, to warn him of danger, and to encourage him to help others where he could.

  “She has never said anything against the Church or the Holy Office of the Inquisition?” Bishop Álvarez asked.

  Diego licked his lips. He could not control how others testified, but he himself would not lie. “She said this matter should not go before the Inquisition.”

  The bishop sat up straighter. “Did she? Did you wonder why she might bid you avoid the scrutiny of the Church?”

  “She did not bid me thus. She commanded me to go to Father Tomás.”

  “Tomás?”

  “Further proof that this matter is better heard by you than the Grand Inquisitor, Your Excellency,” Tomás said.

  “Or that Captain Montoya’s saint fears the Inquisition.”

  Diego’s palms turned slick.

  “I have heard enough for today,” Bishop Álvarez said. “This afternoon, I will wish to speak again to the men who have brought this to my attention. Captain Montoya, are there any members of your crew whom you wish me to interview? I will tell you that it does not look well for you when your own first mate is suspicious.”

  “I think that you may wish to speak with my former cabin boy, Galeno Rodríguez. He knows me well and has spent much time in my quarters. He has seen me at prayer and knows the importance of my faith.”

  “Very well. I may have further questions for you and Señorita O’Reilly tomorrow.”

  *

  In the room down the hall, paella and flan. In England, bread pudding and venison. At home, mutton stew and parsnips covered in fresh butter. If only Mary Kate could stop thinking about food! Her stomach growled, and her mouth watered at the delicious smells creeping from the dining room into the drawing room, where she sat trying to think of Diego’s plight and how she might aid him, but obsessing about the mid-day meal instead.

  Maybe she was going about the whole thing wrong. She was fasting in order to atone for her sins. If she contemplated those, then she would be truly repentant, and then she would be able to think of a solution.

  She sat on the floor and closed her eyes. Now, what all had left her with an empty belly? All those times she had cursed or disobeyed her grandfather? Well, she wasn’t a bit sorry, if God wanted to know the truth. She was sorry for those few times she had sworn out of carelessness, rather than with the express purpose of shocking an English suitor. And she supposed she could be sorry for the times she disobeyed Sir Calder out of pure spite, rather than to preserve her status as an unsullied Irishwoman. Aye, she might be able to be a little sorry for that.

  And there was Diego, of course. Diego, who smelled of crisp citrus and whose long, strong fingers could work magic on her flesh. She should be very, very sorry for letting him kiss her and for kissing him back, tasting every corner of his mouth. She should repent her wicked desire to feel the heat of his mouth upon her naked breast. Most of all, she should try most diligently to stop wishing that he would have taken her virginity one of the many times she had offered it.

  “¡Madre de Dios!” Diego called from the doorway. He swept across the room in easy strides and sank to the floor beside her. “Are you all right, María Catalina?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What?”

  He took her face in his hands and searched her face with a worried frown. “You are on the floor, and your face is flushed, and you seemed to be having a difficult time breathing! Is it the fasting? It has made you feel faint.”

  “Not the fasting, Diego. ‘Tis another kind of deprivation altogether that takes my breath away.”

  Comprehension flooded his face, and he brushed his thumb lightly against her lower lip. “It is better that we stopped when we did. I would not have dragged you any more deeply into this than I already have.”

  “Oh, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’ve always managed to wander into trouble all on my own just fine.” Her stomach growled again, and she sighed. “How was the meal?”

  “It was terrible,” he assured her with a grin. “You did not miss anything. Perhaps a game of chess will take your mind off your stomach and mine off Bishop Álvarez.”

  She agreed, but now her desire for food was the least of her worries. Just as the smell of food had stirred her hunger, the scents of lemon verbena and warm male stirred her desires, and no amount of fasting seemed likely to help.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, Galeno greeted Diego, Juan, and Mary Kate at the cathedral door. “Enrique and the others are with the bishop. I told him everything as best I could, Captain. I told him of how you protect your men, how you have often risked your own life to keep all of us safe. I told him that I have seen you on your knees in prayer many times, and that you say your rosary. And every time we make port, you go to church. I told him that, too.”

  “Slow down, Galeno! It is fine. As long as you spoke the truth, I am sure all will be well.”

  The boy switched to English. “You are well, Señorita O’Reilly?”

  “Fine, Galeno. Did you tell the bishop that our Diego is a Godsend? A cosa llovida del cielo?”

  Galeno beamed with confidence. “He will know.”

  “Sí, he will.” She smiled at him and patted his shoulder.

  Father Tomás joined them and escorted the entire group into Bishop Álvarez’s office. The spacious room felt much tighter than it had the previous day. There were Enrique and the three crewmen who had started the inquiry, six others of Magdalena’s crew, plus Diego, Juan, Mary Kate, Galeno, and the two clergymen. The sailors stood pressed against the wall. Juan, Galeno, and Mary Kate took places standing in front of them, and two wooden chairs sat before the bishop’s desk to be taken by Father Tomás and Diego.

  “I have already asked your crewmen this question. Now I would ask it of your friends. Have any of you been witness to what Diego claims to be one of his visitations?”

  Father Tomás shook his head, and Juan murmured in the negative. Diego turned and smiled apologetically. “Actually, Don Juan, when I came to your home the day before yesterday, that was how I knew that I must return to the cathedral. It was how I knew that I was in trouble.”

  “The spell you had?” Don Juan asked.

  “Spell? Trouble?” Bishop Álvarez said.

  “Magdalena knew that Enrique and the others did not understand,” Diego said. “I believe that was why she used the word ‘trouble.’”

  “He grew pale, and I thought he was going to faint.”

  “Did you see or hear anything unusual, something besides Captain Montoya’s unusual behavior?”

  “No, Your Excellency.”

  Enrique started to speak, but the bishop held up a hand and silenced him. “And you, Galeno?”

  “I have seen these spells with the captain. He has them sometimes when we see a ship, and then he tells us they are pirates and tells us whether we must run or take a stand.”

  “You say he has these spells when the ship appears.”


  Galeno hesitated, and in a small voice replied, “The last time I saw it happen, it happened just before we saw the ship.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “He grew pale and closed his eyes. He said some things.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he would not chase another ship.”

  “Was he talking to you?”

  “No.”

  “Señor Sánchez?”

  “No.”

  “Who?”

  Galeno bit his lip. “I do not know, Your Excellency. I could not see her.”

  “Her?”

  “I—I thought it was God, but now I have been told that my captain speaks to María Magdalena.”

  “Why did you think he was speaking to God?”

  “Because these things that he knows, the things Magdalena tells him, they keep us all safe. That day he told us to sail north, and there we found a flota that protected us. The sea is a very big place, Your Excellency. There are fierce storms or days upon days of no wind or rain and the water barrels foul. Fevers may spread, and pirates may kill men right in front of you. Can you imagine what it is like after a battle to wash away the blood of a man you knew, but who is now dead? To see him spit upon a sword before your very eyes? A man needs his God upon the high seas, Your Excellency, or at least a saint.”

  Every sailor in the room stood silent. Perhaps another fourteen-year-old boy would seem presumptuous to call himself a man, but this one had experienced all of these things before his eleventh birthday. A beard did not make a man.

  “You have great faith in your captain.”

  “He is the best man I know. Someday, I wish to be just like him.”

  “Señorita O’Reilly?”

  Mary Kate had been leaning toward Father Tomás, listening to his soft-spoken translation, and her head snapped back to the bishop.

  “Have you been present during one of Captain Montoya’s visitations?”

  With the priest’s help, she explained, “I was there for the one Galeno described. I saw what he saw and heard what he heard. I thought Diego was going to faint, and at first, I thought he was talking to me. Then he shouted orders to his men. I knew something was odd, because they seemed afraid.”

  Galeno turned and glowered at his shipmates, several of whom had the grace to look away.

  “But you saw nothing else?”

  “Nay, Your Excellency.”

  The bishop fixed his gaze on Diego. “I am at a loss. I have found no evidence of heresy. All witnesses, even those who found your odd insights suspect, have testified that you give every appearance of keeping your faith. You go to confession and Mass whenever you are not at sea. You pray and often admonish your men to trust in God when crisis strikes. Not one man I have interviewed can lay claim that you have spoken against the Church in any way.”

  Diego nodded. Perhaps all would come out well after all.

  “And yet, neither do I find evidence of a miracle. Just as there are no witnesses to any heresy, neither are there witnesses to your saint. Certainly, your foreknowledge of pirate ships is extraordinary, but that has only happened twice. More often, your lookout spies the ship, and you are merely more likely than most to know just what course of action is best. You would appear to be a fine captain, but your command is far from miraculous.” The bishop heaved a bitter sigh at that. “My remaining concern regards the woman. Your crew, even your young protégé, have observed how she distracts you. I cannot credit what you say about Magdalena’s involvement here.”

  “May I speak, Your Excellency?” Mary Kate asked. With the bishop’s permission, she continued. “We pray to saints to intercede on our behalves. We are but poor sinners, and they better make our cases before God. They care what becomes of us.”

  “Do you presume to tell me the nature of the saints?”

  “Nay, not at all. Only, Diego here, he’s as good a man as you could hope. You’ve heard that even from men who had thought to speak ill of him. I’m thinking Father Tomás here had the right of it, and Mary Magdalene has a plan for him fighting pirates and all. But there’s one flaw, a tiny one to be sure, but a flaw all the same. He’s alone.” She turned to Diego. “Might you ever have called out to her and asked her for a mate? Did you ever tell her you were lonely?”

  He thought for several moments before he answered. “I was heartbroken. I had fallen in love with a woman I was not meant to have.”

  “And you asked Magdalene for a wife?”

  “I did not ask her, but she said there was another out there for me. She said I would know her when I saw her.”

  “Did she ever tell you outright that it was me?”

  “No. It was only that you—” he swallowed hard—“you look so much like Magdalena.”

  Mary Kate turned back to the bishop. “She had given Diego such a hard task. Perhaps she meant to help, to fix this one thing in his life, just for him.”

  Don Juan interrupted. “Your Excellency, I cannot believe a saint would have promised Diego this woman. There is enough tension between our country and hers!”

  At Father Tomás’s translation, Mary Kate bristled. “I’m Irish, not English.”

  Diego grinned in spite of himself.

  “One-half Irish,” Don Juan said. “She is also one-half English and the granddaughter of a nobleman.”

  Mary Kate rolled her eyes. “For the love of Mike, he’s a baronet. That’s hardly a real title.”

  “Engaged to be married to the son of another nobleman.”

  “Younger son,” she amended.

  “King Charles of England may allow his sailors to sully his honor by winking at privateers and criminals, but we are Spanish! We are honor-bound to return this woman to her country and to the man who has legal claim to her.”

  “Well, I’d have to argue who claims me, being my own woman, as I am,” Mary Kate said. “But I’ll concede the part about her not promising me to Diego.”

  She turned her gaze on Diego. “I’m thinking she was mainly thinking of you. You’d called to her, as it were. But I’m wondering if she might not have lost sight of the whole picture. I’m thinking she forgot I’m part of a larger design, connected to another place and other people.”

  Bishop Álvarez spoke up. “Are you suggesting a saint could have made a mistake?”

  “I’m only saying the world is much like a tapestry. If a saint were to step back, why she could see the whole picture and let the threads weave in and out where they will, with only a helping hand to tuck in a loose end or two. But if she were to be looking mostly at one small part, some tiny flaw in the life threads of someone she had taken it upon herself to watch out for, maybe she’d lose sight of the whole.”

  “We are speaking of a saint,” the bishop insisted.

  “But saints were human once. Mary Magdalene most of all.”

  Don Juan looked at Mary Kate. “Are you saying you do not wish to remain with Diego?”

  “It seems like every day I know less and less of what I want. Still, I have countless threads in my life tying me to people and places I was born to. I have to go back to my home.”

  Bishop Álvarez nodded in relief. “Good then. Señor Gallegos, have you sent word to her fiancé in Port Royal?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  Mary Kate recognized the name Port Royal and needed no translation. “That isn’t my home.”

  Don Juan gave her an implacable look. “It is now.”

  “Don Juan—” Diego began.

  “‘Tis all right, Diego,” Mary Kate said. “I’ll make my own way back from there. You forget how—persuasive—I can be.”

  *

  Enrique and the other crewmen trailed at the end of the group flocking from the inner offices and into the main sanctuary of the cathedral. Diego told Don Juan and Mary Kate to go on ahead of him, then waited by the door. His first mate turned to engage Father Tomás in discussion, and the others seemed instantly transfixed by the topic. Only Galeno broke away an
d trotted over to Diego.

  “They are cowards,” the young man spat.

  An odd sort of emptiness clutched at Diego’s stomach. “Did they all testify against me?”

  “Enrique, Vicente, Gabriel, and José,” Galeno answered. “Enrique ordered the others to come when the bishop said he wanted more witnesses.”

  “Thank you. Go back to the ship and tell the rest of the men I will return in a few hours.”

  Galeno nodded and skipped out with all of the enthusiasm of a young sailor carrying an important message and a fascinating tale.

  Finally, Father Tomás excused himself from the group of seamen, and they turned to reluctantly face their commander. Diego waited. Let them come to him.

  Enrique led the group forward until he stood face-to-face with his captain. “For what it is worth, I asked Galeno to testify, even before I was told that you had requested his presence. I never wanted to be unfair to you.”

  Diego nodded. “I know.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  To those sailors who had been ordered to testify, Diego said, “You may return to Magdalena and resume your jobs, if you wish. If you still fear me, then I would suggest you petition Don Luis to find you employment on one of his other ships. I cannot know whether or not I will continue to receive warnings of danger, but I will not tolerate one mention of the word heresy. I will not endure one more man who makes the sign of cross when I walk by.”

  “But Captain,” one protested, “you are a holy man.”

  Diego shook his head. “I am only a man. Magdalena is a blessed ship, and we are blessed to sail her. If any among you doubt that, then go back, gather your things, and be gone before I return after dinner.”

  All the men moved to depart, but Diego stopped four of them. “Enrique, Vicente, José, Gabriel, stay a moment.” He waited until the doors closed behind the others. Dim light fell from the thick windows, and candles cast flickering shadows. The sanctuary was still as a tomb.

  “I would not wish to be unfair,” Diego said. “I will try to be as fair as I can when I make my report to Don Luis this afternoon. I do not know whether he will choose to find you other positions in his company. I do know that there is no place for any of you on board Magdalena.”