Teo looked at the money. Five ducats. With his experience, he could make it last a few weeks, as long as he stayed out of the gambling dens. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He supposed he didn’t deserve much more than that.
“Thank you,” Teo said.
“I only ask one thing in return,” Elvira said, stopping. “I want you to tell me everything I don’t know about my husband. Everything I should have learned while he was alive. Everything my children deserve to know when they get older and start asking me questions.”
Teo looked into Elvira’s eyes. The request was genuine. There was no trickery here. And Teo wasn’t sure what to say. Gregorio Cordoba had not been a pleasant person. In fact, he’d been a real bastardo at times. Teo wasn’t sure how much of that he should really tell her. It was true that her children should know. What if one of them had his nature? It was always best to have some warning.
Teo didn’t answer. He just nodded, agreeing to the request. Elvira smiled at him, led him to a café nearby, and ordered drinks for both of them. And over the next two hours, Teo had one of the first real conversations he’d had in years.
The funeral had been a sombre affair, with little of the usual loud sobbing that usually rang in the rafters of the small cathedrals like this one in Santiago.
Armada knew why. The Martinez family had already shed their tears. In a way, they had already said goodbye. For some time, they had known in their hearts their son Aurelio was gone. How many long nights had his parents spent sobbing into each other’s chests, wondering how they would ever get on without him? How often had they tearfully reminisced about his short life and the joy he had brought them? For many parents, it was the not knowing what happened that probably hurt the most.
Now, the entire pueblo could bury him and mourn him properly. Armada and Lucas sat in the back and respectfully said little during the long ceremony. Near the end, many of the residents who knew the boy were allowed to get up and address the congregation, and for the first time, Armada got a sense of what the real Aurelio Martinez had been like in life. Hearing such personal details about a victim wasn’t something he got to hear very often, and he delighted in hearing how Aurelio had been very bright and hardworking, but also social. Everyone in town had a story where he’d helped them out with one project or repair or another. He’d always been happy to spend an afternoon repairing a fence or helping an elderly resident to the shops. It was easy to see why he’d caught the attention of Lady Florentia for her sponsorship. It saddened him to think of what Aurelio Martinez could have accomplished if he had lived. He was the kind of man Spain needed more of.
It was what Lady Florentia had thought too, and she’d told him so after he’d returned to spend another afternoon with her. This time, without the dark cloud of murder hanging over the conversation. This time, he’d been able to talk to her the way he’d wanted, and it had been a magical afternoon that had fed his soul. Their time had been short, and he promised to return in the autumn to visit again. Both he and the Lady knew this promise would not be kept, but it was the spirit of it that was important.
The funeral was the one last piece of business before he and Lucas would set off on the long journey back to Granada. It would take them several days of hard travelling to get there. But it wasn’t the travel that Armada dreaded, it was all the long hours of silence that would give each of them time to contemplate all that had happened since they’d arrived. For it would have implications well beyond just this case.
The priest gave his final quotes from the Bible, and the funeral was over. The mood was quiet and hushed as everyone slowly made their way out of the cathedral. Most hung about to say a few words of solace to the Martinez family before leaving, but Armada felt it wasn’t his place to join them. This was not his pueblo. In fact, being here felt intrusive somehow. He was just a reminder of the horrific nature of Aurelio’s death, which is not what everyone wanted to remember.
So, Armada and Lucas slipped away discreetly and headed back to their cart, which Lucas had loaded up the previous night so they could leave just after the funeral.
They had been here too long already. They should have left after Armada and Lucas had been released from custody, as their lives would soon be in danger. And just leaving the city may not be enough.
He hadn’t mentioned to Lucas how he’d done it. The boy had enough to worry about. No, Armada would take on the burden of watching over their shoulders for years to come, keeping a keen eye out for any Portuguese assassins who may be looking to settle a score. Giving up the location of their outpost at Cabeza de Diego Gomez was the only way to overshadow the glory that came from hanging Lucas and imprisoning Armada. It was well worth it for a magistrate lusting for glory to trade their freedom for the chance to catch a garrison of Portuguese independence fighters stockpiling munitions barely a league from their city. There would be awards, honours, titles. Perhaps the King himself would commend his patriotism in the war against the Portuguese.
But it also meant vengeance would be sought for such a betrayal. Armada had little doubt there were those in Carasco’s company who would not rest until Armada’s head was on a pike.
They said little as they left the church and crossed the Roman Bridge to re-enter the city for the last time. Armada pondered how many people in Santiago had lived their entire lives in this pueblo without ever once having stepped foot on this bridge, or in Salamanca, despite living their lives in its shadow. Angeles Mendoza knew that. It was why she knew she’d be able to get away with her deception.
Their cart and mule were parked in the university stables, next to the Patio de Escuelas Menores. Lucas wandered far ahead of Armada as they followed the Rúa de San Martín, and for a moment Armada lost sight of him.
But he didn’t worry. Something in him told him where Lucas had gone. Armada crossed the plaza on the other side of the road from the university building and entered the small alleyway with the two arches that opened up into the courtyard of the Plaza de Escuelas Menores. It was there he found Lucas, leaning against one of the archways, watching the boys of San Bartolomé on the far side hurling insults at the younger boys and kicking a ball about. Lucas watched them with that same fascination as he did the first time he’d laid eyes on them. The boys had saved themselves by deciding not to set off the bomb, like they’d planned with Julian. In fact, they’d given up the hiding place of the barrel of serpentine as well, which Arturo had accepted as recompense for their plans.
The election had gone forward, but with everything that had happened, few people on campus had any desire to vote for San Bartolomé, whose reputation would take a few years to recover. Juan Gongora, the candidate from Arzobispo, easily won it, leaving the San Bartolomé boys disappointed but also freed from their obligation to fight until the next election.
For Lucas, the damage had been done. Arturo had revealed his deception to the boys, and he Lucas was warned not to encounter them again, as his safety could not be guaranteed. It didn’t seem necessary to Armada that Arturo do this, but figured it was Arturo’s way of ushering the both of them out of his university and out of his life.
Despite everything, there was still longing in Lucas’ eyes.
Now was the time to tell him.
“I felt it, too,” Armada said.
“What, sir?”
“When it’s gone, you feel as though you’ve lost a limb. I felt it during my voyage home across the Atlantic, knowing I could never return. I questioned my decision to leave my company behind. For weeks, I thought I had made a mistake. What was I going to do without my fellow soldiers, my friends, my brothers, at my side every moment of the day? It felt impossible to go on.”
One of the boys kicked the ball in their direction, and for a moment Armada was worried they would be spotted. Lucas stayed rooted to his spot, not having the same fear. Did he perhaps hope the boys would come over? Was he hoping for some kind of reconciliation? Was he aware of how foolish that was to hope for? Probably not yet. But
in time, perhaps.
Thankfully, they weren’t seen, and the boy just picked up the ball and kicked it as high as it could, bouncing it off an engraving above a lecture hall re-iterating the university’s motto of “Kings for Universities, Universities for Kings.”
“I did go on. Eventually,” Armada said. “But it took a while to get used to being alone in this world again.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucas said dismissively.
“I know you’re still angry, Lucas. You have every right to be. I was the one that took you from the path that would have led you here. I took you away from any hope of living like other boys your age. And then to make it worse, I brought you here and allowed you to taste what you were missing.”
Armada wished he could see Lucas’s face, but Lucas kept his back to him. It was the boy’s right to hide his thoughts, but it didn’t make this easier.
“And if you remain angry at me for the rest of your life, I would understand. But if you are to continue travelling with me, Lucas, it must be a choice. You are no good to me if your loyalty comes only from a sense of obligation or a need for wages.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Lady Florentia and I spoke of you. I told her everything that had happened. She was sad about learning of Aurelio Martinez’s fate. But also grateful for our help, including yours. So grateful, in fact, that Lady Florentia has agreed to allow you to take Aurelio Martinez’s place at university next year. Your expenses would be entirely sponsored by her, of course.”
This got Lucas to turn around, unable to hide his shock.
“This life at university is yours if you wish, Lucas. But before you decide whether to take Lady Florentia’s offer, I want you to consider something.”
“What’s that, sir?”
Armada took a breath. Lucas wasn’t going to like what he was about to say, but he wanted to make sure he at least heard it. He couldn’t be confrontational. This all had to be Lucas’s decision. He would hate to see the boy make a mistake like this purely out of spite for him.
“You don’t belong here, Lucas,” Armada said. “For some reason, God has sent you on a path that is quite different from anyone else’s in this world. You are not just one of these boys, no matter how much you want to be. Yours is a mind that works differently. It wouldn’t be long before you got bored of these sons of aristocrats and their games and yearned for a life more significant. You have seen so much more than they have of this world, of the darkness that lies in the hearts of man. You have seen behind the curtain of death. It has already changed you. In so many ways, you are already many years older than these boys.”
Armada felt he wasn’t making himself clear and could see Lucas getting distracted by watching the boys play on the steps. He took Lucas aside, taking him around the corner, trying to break the trance.
“You have much more to offer this world, Lucas. And it is not something that will be cultivated by long lectures on law or theology. I believe you are on a path toward something different, and for a little while longer at least, I can still guide you along it. But you have to choose it. I cannot force you into anything. You’re too old for that now.”
“Sir…I…,” Lucas began.
“It’s not a decision to be made now, Lucas. Lady Florentia does not need an answer until next year. You have time to consider your future. Take it.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucas said.
Armada suddenly felt proud of Lucas. It was only a few short years ago he’d been a small child, helpless and vulnerable when it came to navigating his way through this difficult world. But those days were over. Armada was starting to see what he would be like as a man and it was frightening. The day was fast approaching when Lucas would have to make his own way into the world, leaving Armada behind as just another lonely old man.
It brought up memories of coming home on the ship from Peru once again. Such a long voyage, so many nights spent gazing out at the moon, wondering if Peru had all been just a dream, wondering if he’d made the right decision, wondering if he would ever feel anything other than loneliness again.
Armada led the way back to the cart, trying to shake off the heavy weight that came with thoughts of the future. For now, Lucas was still with him. For now, he had no reason to be lonely. For now, he had a long trip home.
THE END
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Quote Citations
Calderón de la Barca, Pedro. The Worst is Not Always Certain.
Translated by Kenneth Muir, Esq. London: Charles Dolman, 1853.
De Vega, Lope. Persistence Until Death.
Translated by Antonio Cortijo Ocaña, Jessica Ernst Powell, Erin M. Rebhan. Pamplona: Eunsa, 2003.
Calderón de la Barca, Pedro. The Constant Prince.
Translated by Denis Florence MacCarthy, Esq. London: Charles Dolman, 1853.
De Vega, Lope. Fuenteovejuna.
Translated by Jill Booty. Bristol: WBC Print Ltd., 1990.
About the Author
Jefferson began his career in the film industry, writing and directing numerous short and feature-length films that played at film festivals all over the world. He attained his degree in feature film screenwriting from the University of London, Royal Holloway in 2010 and put it immediately to work by ditching film altogether, deciding he’d be happier writing novels.
He then wrote two novels of little note in a genre that didn’t suit him before moving to the south of Spain with his new family in 2015. It was here he discovered a love of history in a country with a rich and tumultuous past, the reverberations of which were felt in nearly every corner of the globe. And it was on this fertile ground that a new character, a new setting, and a new genre were realised.
Jefferson now spends his time writing, being with his family, and wondering if he’ll ever have time to get to the beach.
The Domingo Armada Mysteries Box Set Page 78
