The Falcons of Fire and Ice

by Karen Maitland

  ‘I will have to take them from the wild.’

  My mother snorted. Contempt for my father’s occupation had become such a habit with her that even now she could not keep the expression of distaste from her face.

  ‘I know you and your father think I am stupid, that I don’t know anything about his precious birds. You both like it that way, don’t you? That private little world you share with him, laughing at me behind my back, cutting me out of your conversations. But you can’t be married to a man like your father for twenty-two years without learning something, and I know that gyrfalcons only breed in the Northern lands. They’re not passage birds. They don’t migrate through these parts. So you can’t set traps for them or take the chicks from the nest, because there are no wild gyrfalcons in Portugal.’

  ‘Then I will have to go to where I can capture them,’ I yelled.

  It was only when I heard the words burst from my lips that I suddenly realized that was exactly what I had to do. There was no other way.

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ my mother began. ‘Even if you were the son your precious father always wanted, it would be impossible, but you’re only …’

  I didn’t wait to listen to the end of her speech. I was not a son. I was not my mother’s daughter. I was not an Old Christian. In truth, I didn’t know what I was any more. The image flashed into my head of the young Marrano girl, weeping and clasping the little box of bones to her chest as they forced her to put it on the pyre and watch it burn. The only thing I knew for certain at that moment was that I would not become that girl. I would not stand there and watch the flames creep across the faggots of wood towards my father, as I had watched them slither towards Jorge.

  I seized the edge of the linen cupboard, heaved with all my strength and felt it grate across the floor as I inched it away from the wall. Under a loose flag, my father had said.

  ‘What are you doing?’ my mother demanded.

  ‘The only thing I can do – I am going to the Northern lands to steal a pair of gyrfalcons.’

  Belém, Portugal Ricardo

  Passage hawk – a hawk captured during migration.

  ‘Move aside, you useless pail of piss. You think I’ve got all day?’

  A man hefting a huge bale on his bare shoulder pushed past me, almost pitching me into the stinking water of the harbour. I turned to remonstrate with the fellow and then saw that the oaf was a good foot taller than me and as broad as an elephant’s backside. I concluded it wasn’t worth giving the man a lesson in manners; he wouldn’t have understood a word.

  It was impossible to walk in a straight line along the waterfront. If you weren’t sidestepping mooring ropes and gangways, you were being shoved aside by lumbering herds of sweating, reeking peasants all rushing to and fro carrying boxes, kegs and bundles of produce. Moorish slaves ran along the street with long planks of wood balanced on their heads. Girls wove in and out with baskets of silver fish, and men with accents as thick as their breath threw sacks to one another across the gap between ship and shore with the ease of a dolphin tossing a fish.

  I forced myself to slow my pace to that of a hobbled mule, but only succeeded in being buffeted from one side to the other like a football in a scrum of boys. But it wouldn’t do to arrive at Dona Lúcia’s house too early. She might think I was overeager for the money, and worse still, that I had nothing better to do than wait on her. I was supposed to be organizing the supplying of a ship. I would have a thousand tasks to do, better to arrive a little late. Not late enough to cause offence, but just enough to convince her I was a busy man.

  I paused to gaze out across the harbour at the Torre de Belém, the fortified tower that lay just offshore. The waves lapped all around her base and the white stones of her battlements sparkled in the sunshine. Silvia always used to stop just here when we were out for a stroll, especially at night when the tower was lit up by a hundred lamps that shone down on the black water. She dreamt of being entertained in one of the Governor’s private rooms, which she had convinced herself were decked out like a palace. She thought it was the most romantic place in Belém. Was that where the bitch was now? Had she finally succeeded in snaring an officer or even the Governor himself and installed herself as their whore?

  As I turned away, I saw two soldiers approaching. My heart began to race. Were they looking for me? I crouched down near a fish seller and feigned interest in a basket of mussels, trying to keep my face averted until they had passed by. The rheumy-eyed old man who sat on a low stool beside his basket grew quite animated at the prospect of making a sale and prised one of the shells open, thrusting the contents halfway up my nose to prove they were fresh. When, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the soldiers strolling away from me, I pushed the old man’s trembling hand away and strode on, his whines following me.

  Then I suddenly saw her, Silvia, walking ahead of me along the waterfront, a scarlet bandanna wound through her mane of glossy black hair. She was swaying with that easy stride of hers that made her hips swing as if she was beginning a dance. I called to her, but she couldn’t hear me. I hurried after her, shoving my way through the crowd, ignoring the curses and insults as I elbowed people aside.

  ‘Silvia! Silvia!’

  Her head turned slightly, but she walked on.

  I barged into one old lady with such force that she staggered and would have fallen had the press of the crowd not been so great, but a cascade of bright oranges tumbled from her pannier and bounced on to the street. She screamed curses at me as she struggled to retrieve them from under the feet of the crowd, but I didn’t stop to help her. I pushed on through.

  Silvia had vanished. I gazed frantically round and finally spotted the scarlet bandanna disappearing round the corner of a side street. Mercifully this street, though narrow, was less crowded and I sped after her, dodging round piles of pots and dishes that the shopkeepers had stacked out in the street. I had almost caught up with her.

  I seized her arm. ‘Silvia, my angel, I’ve been –’

  She gave a squawk of indignation and pulled her arm out of my grip, turning to face me. I felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over me. It wasn’t Silvia.

  Muttering incoherent apologies, I backed away straight into a teetering stack of jars that wobbled alarmingly. Trying to right myself and steady the jars at the same time, I heard the girl’s mocking laughter behind me, but I did not turn around.

  I walked a few paces around the corner and sank down on my haunches under the shade of an almond tree. I’d been so sure it was her, but even as I touched her I’d known it wasn’t. Where the hell was she? Surely someone must have seen her. Was she still in Belém?

  I hadn’t dared go to her usual haunts the previous night in case Filipe or the fishermen had reported the body and named me as her killer. I’d spent the night a short way out of the town, huddled behind a small shrine, with precious little sleep. Most of the night was spent cursing that witch Silvia. It was she who’d dropped me into this pile of dung. As I tossed and turned on the stony ground, without even the solace of a flagon of wine to comfort me or soothe my grumbling belly, I bitterly imagined how Silvia was spending the night. She’d be laughing and drinking in a tavern, tearing great strips of hot roasted chicken off the bone with her sharp white teeth and rolling into a warm soft bed with her newest lover. I can tell you that long before the morning sun had finally stirred its fat arse and bothered to clamber over the horizon, I was actually wishing Silvia really was lying dead on the floor of that stinking fisherman’s hut.

  But, although every instinct told me I should keep walking away from Belém, whatever the danger I was forced to return. One hungry night was enough to remind me that I could not afford to be on the road without a good sum of money in my pocket. Some men may survive sleeping rough and scrounging a crust or two where they can, but a man of my sensitivities needs good food in his belly, fine wine in his cup and a thick mattress beneath his bones. I could not bear to delay any longer. The sooner I had that
money, the sooner I could get away from here.

  The church bells were just sounding noon when I stood before Dona Lúcia’s gate, slapping the dust from my clothes and tugging on the bell rope.

  ‘No monkey today, Senhor?’ the black slave said as he opened the door. He looked mildly disappointed.

  ‘Pio is sick,’ I told him.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘But a rich man like you can afford to buy many monkeys. You will get another.’

  If only that were true. Nevertheless I felt a bubble of pleasure rising up my spine, knowing that by the time he showed me out again I would indeed be as rich as he imagined me to be.

  As I followed the slave through cool, dark reception rooms into the bright sunlight of the courtyard, I glimpsed Dona Lúcia’s enchanting little maid peering out from one of the doorways. She shook her head at me, making agitated flapping motions with her hand. I blew her a kiss and walked on. If she was hoping I would take her out on her next day off, she would be gravely disappointed. These girls are always dreaming of catching some wealthy, fond old man or a handsome young fellow who would set them up in a pretty little house where they could play at being mistress instead of maid. But adorable though the maid was, I was too cunning a fish to bite at that particular fly. She had served her purpose.

  We did not turn, as I had expected, into the courtyard. Instead, the slave led me into a small room which was so crowded with chests, bowls, plates and huge clay jars that it put me in mind of a merchant’s shop. The shutters on the windows were fastened and the only light came from a star-shaped oil lamp attached to a chain that hung from the beam above the centre of a long wooden table. Five tiny flames burned at the end of each arm of the lamp.

  Dona Lúcia was seated at the far end of the table, which was lined on either side by many high-backed chairs draped with white cloths, so that in the dim light it looked as if she had invited a host of ghosts to dinner. I bowed low and kissed her plump hand.

  ‘Dona Lúcia, how delightful to see you again. I swear you look even younger and more radiant than when I last saw you.’

  ‘Always the flatterer, Senhor Ricardo. But you should save your pretty words for your young sweetheart.’

  I pressed my hand to my heart. ‘Alas, Dona Lúcia, now that I have had the pleasure of your company, any foolish young girl would seem insipid by comparison.’

  The slave drew out a chair at the end of the table opposite the old widow and whisked the cloth from it. With a bow, he indicated that I should sit. Something under the table began growling and yapping alternately and I felt a wet nose snuffling around my ankles. I tried to resist the urge to boot it away.

  ‘Now stop that, my darling,’ Dona Lúcia cooed. ‘Leave the poor man alone.’

  The revolting little dog waddled out from under the table and flopped down on the cool tiles. Dona Lúcia may not have grown any younger, but I swear that little beast of hers had grown fatter since my last visit.

  ‘Now tell me, Senhor Ricardo, how are your plans progressing for your voyage? This ship, what was its name?’

  ‘Santa Dorothea. Yes, she is ready to sail as soon as she can be provisioned and the sailors hired. The captain has a list of the crew he wants, the most experienced navigator, master, quartermaster and carpenter, as well as the toughest seamen. They have all been offered work on other ships, for they’re known to be the best, but the captain has persuaded them to wait until this evening before signing with another ship, on the promise of a generous advance on their wages if they make their mark upon our papers. But if I cannot pay them tonight …’ I spread my hands, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging.

  I heard a dry cough behind me and the swish of a curtain being pulled aside. As I turned, a man stepped out from a doorway that, thanks to the infernally dim light of the room, I hadn’t even noticed. I half-rose from my chair, but he pushed me back down, his fingers digging into my shoulder as if to make it quite clear he was willing to exert more force should it be required. He settled himself on a chair next to mine. From the excellent cut of his clothes, the rich gold trim on his doublet and the silver-inlaid ebony sword sheath that dangled from his belt, I didn’t need introductions to tell me that this was no servant.

  ‘I understand from my aunt that I have the pleasure of addressing Senhor Ricardo da Moniz.’

  But he did not look as if it was a pleasure, quite the opposite in fact. The tone of his voice was so cold it would have frozen a dragon’s breath. My stomach was churning and not just because I was ravenously hungry. Dona Lúcia hadn’t mentioned any nephew. The last thing I needed was some heir with an eye to his aunt’s fortune asking awkward questions. I could convince the old lady of anything, but this fellow didn’t look like a man who would be easily conned.

  I took a deep breath. Hold your nerve, I admonished myself. Perhaps she’s told him what a good investment she has found and he wants a share of it. Play this right and you might yet prise both these oysters open and take two pearls instead of one.

  I met his gaze and tried to smile confidently. ‘At your service, Senhor … ?’

  He continued to stare hard at me, but did not supply a name.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet the nephew of such a charming lady. How truly fortunate you are indeed to have such a wise and noble woman as your aunt.’

  I beamed at Dona Lúcia, but she seemed not to be listening and was engrossed in feeding a titbit to her revolting dog, which had lumbered back to her chair. My stomach growled. It was all I could do to stop myself wrenching the piece of cake from the dog’s jaws and devouring it myself.

  ‘Dona Lúcia has no doubt told you of the marvellous venture which she and I are to embark on?’

  ‘My aunt has told me of your conversation.’

  ‘Then,’ I said with a brightness I certainly did not feel, ‘I take it that she has invited you here to read and witness the contract between us. A very prudent precaution, if I may say so, Dona Lúcia. One cannot be too careful these days; there are so many rogues who try to take advantage of a woman alone. I am delighted that you have someone to safeguard your interests.’

  I pulled a folded parchment from the inside of my jacket. My friend the clerk had done an excellent job, and the lettering with all its embellishments looked impressive enough to have been a royal proclamation. I loosened the ribbons that secured it and handed it to the man. He unfolded it, his eyes running rapidly down the page. A smile curled the corners of his mouth, but it was not a pleasant one.

  ‘Well drawn, well drawn indeed. You must give me the name of the man who wrote this for you. I would be most interested in seeing more of his work.’ He tossed the contract on to the table and leaned back in his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together.

  ‘Since my aunt told me of your visit, I have been making a few inquiries of my own into this venture of yours. I thought at first this ship might be – how shall I put it? – as fanciful as this contract of yours. But I found that there is a Santa Dorothea in harbour and she is indeed bound for the isle of Goa, where, as you told my aunt, her captain is intending to buy many rich and rare treasures to sell in the markets of Lisbon.’

  My stomach, which had been knotting itself tighter and tighter, suddenly relaxed.

  Dona Lúcia smiled happily at the end of the table. ‘You see, Carlos, I told you this young man was to be trusted. I always say you can trust a man who loves animals. They always know, don’t you, my poppet?’ She held out another morsel of cake to the drooling dog. ‘Please forgive my nephew, Senhor Ricardo. He always thinks that someone is going to take advantage of his foolish old aunt.’

  I bowed my head graciously. I could afford to be magnanimous now that the deal was almost sealed.

  ‘You’re fortunate to have such a devoted nephew whose only desire, I’m sure, is to protect you from the wickedness in this world, as I always endeavour to protect my own dear mother.’

  My own dear mother would doubtless have said that it was the world that needed protection
from me, but then she never had the faith in me that a mother should.

  ‘If your nephew is now assured that all is in order, perhaps he would care to witness our signatures, unless, of course, Senhor Carlos would like to join us in this little venture?’ I turned to him hopefully. ‘The rewards, as I’m sure your aunt has explained, are beyond anything a man might hope to gain by investing here. Chinese silks and dishes, for example, can be bought for a mere trifle in Goa, but sell them in Lisbon and you may name your price.’

  ‘I have no doubt at all about that, Senhor Ricardo. And doubtless the Santa Dorothea will come back loaded with such goods, and make a fortune for her backers, just as you say.’

  He picked up the contract. I felt that same glorious shiver of excitement rise up through my body that I always did when I knew a fighting cock I had backed was about to be declared the winner.

  ‘There is only one small problem, Senhor Ricardo. It seems that the Santa Dorothea is already crewed and provisioned, but not, it seems, by you, rather by a group of merchants represented by one Henry Vasco. In fact, the captain has never heard of you, Senhor Ricardo. Now, how do you account for that?’

  He shifted his weight in the chair, leaning forward, his hand inching towards the hilt of his sword.

  ‘What’s this?’ Dona Lúcia said sharply, ignoring the whining dog.

  I tried to keep a relaxed smile on my face. ‘Of course he hasn’t heard of me. As you say, Vasco is representing me and my fellow merchants. That way there can be no possibility of Dona Lúcia’s name being involved. As I assured your aunt at the beginning, I guarantee discretion. It would be vulgar to link a noblewoman’s name with base commerce.’

  Carlos’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have just told my aunt that you needed the money today to secure the services of the experienced crew. Yet I have been told they are already signed up and are aboard.’

  ‘Because I swore to them that I would have their money tonight. They trust me as a gentleman.’