The Spanish Exile (Islands of the Crown Book 1)

by Allen, Jewel

  “A Dutch hothead. No surprise there. He’ll try to get attention any way he can.” Raúl made one final tug on his waistcoat and sheathed his sword. “Let’s hope in their hurry, the rebels didn’t stock up on provisions. When their food runs out, they will break.”

  “Some citizens are smuggling provisions past the blockade.”

  “I take it the ships are blocked from leaving port?”

  “For now at least.”

  As he tucked in his shirt, Raúl mused, “You know, we can blow up those ships in one attack.”

  “The king doesn’t want to lose a single ship. He prizes them all, especially the one called La Sirena.”

  “Named in memory of his late Queen Amalia. He would, of course. What other ships are involved?”

  “The frigate Maria Christina and a few smaller vessels.”

  “Their names?”

  “I know of at least two. Julián and Neptuno.”

  Raúl nodded. He had heard of the Neptuno.

  A foot soldier brought Raúl a missive. Raúl scanned it, his pulse quickening. “Count Saldana wants me to lead support troops to Valencia.” He asked Mario, “Do you have your orders?”

  “I will join the battalion in Aranjuez.”

  “May God go with you, my friend,” Raúl said in parting. They clasped arms. For one moment, Raúl marveled at the irony that Mario felt more like a real brother than the brother he left behind in Cheverra.

  At the doorway, he spied Count Saldana talking to Leandro Aguilar. He wasn’t intending to eavesdrop, but Leandro had raised his voice enough that Raúl caught their conversation.

  “Count, with all due respect, why couldn’t I help at the blockade?” Leandro asked. “There are more than enough troops at Aranjuez.”

  “Lieutenant Aguilar, I thought about where we could use your skills, and that is what I decided.” Count Saldana frowned. “Are you questioning my authority?”

  Leandro bit out his reply. “No, sir.”

  “Good, for a moment there, I wondered. Have a good journey.” The count left Leandro, whose face darkened at the sight of Raúl.

  “Aranjuez isn’t all that bad,” Raúl said. “It got pretty exciting when I escorted –”

  Leandro lunged at him, gripping his throat. “I should have finished you that day at the sawmill. Should have plunged my sword in your belly. I had no excuse. None! Not when you are crippled and I wasn’t! If I had just finished you off, I would be getting the promotions, and not you.”

  Raúl wrenched Leandro’s fist off and punched him in the nose. Leandro fell on his back and scrambled to his feet.

  “Go on,” Leandro said, blood pouring from his nose. “Fight me. Man to man. No more hiding behind your rank. We all know that you’ve duped the count.”

  “You’re not worth it,” Raúl said.

  Leandro froze. “What?”

  “I said you’re not worth it. I had a physical disability. But you are hopeless, a tragedy really. You lack character, which is the greatest disability of all.”

  “Fight me, coward!”

  “That is enough of that.” Count Saldana walked to the two men. “Lieutenant Aguilar, I changed my mind. Instead of Aranjuez, how does the jail sound?”

  “But --”

  “You can come out when you’ve cooled your head.” Count Saldana eyed him with distaste. “And cleaned up.”

  As soldiers took Leandro away, the count turned to Raúl. “Captain Calderón, go fulfill your assignment. You’ve been delayed enough already.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and Captain?”

  Raúl turned.

  “Your self-control continues to amaze me.”

  “Thank you, Count.”

  56

  A naval detachment greeted Raúl’s unit in Valencia. Admiral Benigno Gutierrez flashed Raúl a patronizing smile under a waxed mustache. “I do not understand why they bothered to send Infantry on a sea operation. You have wasted a trip, Captain. My men have regained control of the ships.”

  Soldiers led away shackled men from a bevy of vessels. The ships sported scars of battle – broken masts, some smoke on deck, a battered hull – but otherwise, they were intact.

  “I still follow my superior’s assignments,” Raúl said.

  “Since I outrank you,” Admiral Gutierrez said, “you may consider yourself dismissed.”

  Raúl was saved from insulting him back by a sailor who approached them. Worry puckered his forehead. “Excuse me, Admiral,” the sailor said.

  Gutierrez glanced at him impatiently. “Yes?”

  “Sir, the head rebels escaped.”

  Gutierrez glanced at Raúl, then stepped so that the sailor wasn’t in Raúl’s full view. “What?”

  “The Neptuno is missing.”

  Gutierrez glowered and stepped right in front of the poor subordinate’s face. “What do you mean it’s missing?”

  “It was there,” the sailor stammered, “and then it wasn’t.”

  “How could a ship simply disappear?”

  “Isn’t that what a jabeque is built for, Admiral,” Raúl said, “evading gun-heavy warships?” He almost added, “and incompetent naval officers.”

  This particular naval officer glared. “I know what jabeques can do!”

  “Can I be of assistance?” Raúl offered.

  Gutierrez drew himself up. “I will call on you, Captain, if we get that desperate.”

  Raúl shrugged. “As you wish.” He squinted. A red jabeque docked at port caught his eye. “Admiral, is that not the Neptuno?”

  Gutierrez gave him a disparaging glance. “It is the Asuncion, a ship commissioned by the Count Bautista.”

  “Have you inspected it?”

  “Captain, I will thank you for trusting us to do our job. Of course we have. The count himself has reassured us with a tour.”

  “The count is on board?” Raúl arched an eyebrow. “That surprises me. He normally stays in Madrid.”

  Gutierrez pulled on his waxed mustache. “I do not make it my business to inquire in the personal affairs of the king’s ministers.” Gutierrez clicked his heels impatiently. “Now, are you quite done with your interrogation? Because I have a ship to find.”

  Raúl inclined his head politely and said nothing else. He went back to his men and called Francisco Alcántara over.

  “Francisco,” Raúl addressed his most sea-experienced of officers, “round up fifty of your best men and wait for me at the dock. This is what I want you to do.”

  As Raúl gave Francisco more specific instructions, Francisco gave him a curious glance, but he just nodded crisply. “All right, Captain.”

  Raúl mounted his horse. Gutierrez was still berating his sailor. Raúl rolled his eyes, then turned his horse onto the road to the Valencia borough of Placido.

  A young woman opened the door to Dante Oviedo’s house. She looked a lot like the fishmonger, just a diminutive version and paler.

  “Please tell Dante that Captain Calderón wishes to speak to him,” Raúl requested.

  The young woman opened the door wider and called out Dante’s name.

  Dante came out of a room, looking surprised. “It’s awfully brave of you, a soldier, to come to these parts. You’re not very popular around here.”

  “Luckily, it’s dark. No one could see my uniform.” Raúl looked around at the squalor – a broken chair, torn window hangings, piles of dishes. “Is there some place I can speak with you in private?”

  Dante pointed at a corner, which had a table and two chairs. “This will have to be it.” The girl had disappeared, nowhere to be seen.

  “As you can see,” Dante said, “I am not making a lot of money from the price jacking of staples, contrary to what that woman accused me of.”

  “No, you’re not.” At the oblique mention of Mercedes, Raúl said, “Did you not hear? A soldier shot Mercedes during the riots.”

  Dante’s face fell. “No, I did not.”

  “These are sad times,” Raúl murmur
ed.

  “Yes, they are. Over high prices of food? Over the cape and hat?” Dante shook his head.

  Raúl recalled Gabriel’s words. “They must be more important to the people than some think.”

  “Apparently. Thank goodness for you and your men. I think Madrid is starting to settle down.”

  “Our troubles aren’t over, unfortunately. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

  Dante’s eyebrows rose. “Doing what?”

  “I need someone with the know-how of ships to accompany our troops in Valencia.”

  “Is it true, then? They say rebels have holed up in port.”

  “The navy has captured everyone. Except for the head rebels. That’s why I came to you. The men escaped on the Neptuno.”

  “The Neptuno?” Dante’s eyes lit up. “My father was contramastre of that ship.”

  “I know.”

  “I sailed on it once, as a cabin boy.”

  “I figured that.”

  “I’m amazed you’d know my father’s former position.” Dante smiled wryly. “Does anything ever escape your attention, Captain?”

  “Most of the time, no.”

  Impulsively, Raúl stood and parted the curtain, revealing Dante’s eavesdropping sister, who blushed and stammered her way out of the room.

  The two men laughed.

  “So, will you help me?” Raúl asked.

  “As long as I don’t have to sail far, yes.” Dante grinned.

  Before leaving Placido to head to the port of Valencia with Raúl’s regiment, Raúl quizzed Dante about the Neptuno.

  “It was built by the Majorcan master shipwrights from the port of Soller,” Dante said. “It is a light vessel with a narrow deck. Its distinguishing characteristic is a square main sail and distinctive hull.”

  “Is there a way to get on board undetected?”

  Dante shook his head. “It is no different than larger frigates. There is no other option than to board and fight.”

  “How easy is it to row to shore?”

  “Quite easy. A crew can take the oars in calm waters.”

  When they arrived at port, Raúl cursed. “The slip is empty.” He scanned the waters. To the right, a fleet sailed with the Spanish Naval Standard. Off by itself, to the left, was a lone vessel with a square mainsail, gaining fast on the open waters.

  “If I am not mistaken, that is the Neptuno,” Dante said, sounding puzzled.

  Raúl’s jaw tightened. “That is what I was afraid of.”

  Dante squinted into the distance. “Why don’t the naval ships go after it?”

  “It carries a minister in the king’s cabinet, Count Bautista, is painted red, and is emblazoned with the name Fuego.”

  “Easily done with a bucket of paint.”

  “Exactly my thought.”

  Dante’s eyes shone with excitement. “What do you need me to do?”

  Raúl motioned for his junior officers to join them. “Here’s the plan...”

  57

  What the fishing boat lacked in looks, it made up in speed. Raúl arranged to use it upon Dante’s recommendation. The sea gods smiled down upon Raúl, propelling the tiny schooner within shouting range of the Fuego.

  “You, there,” a sailor hailed Raúl, brandishing his musket.

  “My name is Raúl Calderón, Captain of the Guards!”

  The sailor lowered his weapon. “I beg your pardon, Captain.”

  “Tell your master that I wish to board.”

  Within minutes, Count Bautista presented himself on deck. He was a clean-shaven man with gleaming black hair tied at his nape. “Captain Calderón. I would never have expected you to sail in such a humble vessel. A fishing boat.” He chuckled.

  “Likewise, I’m surprised you’re out sailing these waters,” Raúl said.

  “I have forgotten what a joy it can be, but I am anxious to reach our destination. How can I be of service?”

  “I have a message for you, from the king.”

  “Very well, I shall have one of my men take it from you.”

  “I don’t have a letter. May I talk to you in private? Just for a few minutes?”

  “I have some work to do,” the count said, sounding peeved. “You understand, of course, when I tell you that this is not a good time to visit.”

  “Why?” Raúl said. “You’re not hiding anything...or anyone, are you?”

  “I am dining,” the count said stiffly. “You may join me – alone – in the captain’s quarters.”

  Raúl boarded from the fishing boat and followed the count and his guard below deck. He pretended to not see Dante and the other men lower themselves from the fishing boat onto smaller rowboats.

  “I am all ears,” the count said, sitting down to a delicious-looking meal of mutton roast, quail soup, and bread on a linen-covered table set for two. “Won’t you have a seat?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Raúl said. “My message is simple. In the name of His Majesty, King Carlos the Third, I hereby arrest you for insurrection.”

  The count stared, then burst into laughter. “I have not heard a more preposterous declaration! Over my lifetime, I have heard outrageous ideas, but this one takes the cake.”

  “You are right,” Raúl said. “What was I thinking? You are too incompetent to pull off a mutiny.”

  The count’s smile faded. “Listen. You are ruining my meal. Take yourself off this ship before I have my men toss you overboard.”

  “Pardon me for ruining your meal and for interrupting Admiral Jann Von Dirjk’s.” Raúl gestured towards the other place setting.

  Raúl heard a light step and turned. A sword’s blade ended up close to his neck.

  “Apology accepted,” Admiral Von Dirjk said. The Dutchman pointed to a chair while keeping the blade at Raúl’s neck. “Sit down, Captain Calderón.”

  Raúl sat down, facing the two men. They couldn’t look more different. The count was dark as a fried churro, while the admiral reminded him of an undercooked pastry.

  The count sighed. “Admiral, why did you have to go and reveal yourself?”

  “The captain is right. I need to eat my meal.” Admiral Von Dirjk sheathed his sword and grabbed a slice of bread from a basket on the table. “Besides, I could not resist confronting a man who had the audacity to apprehend us single-handedly.” He glanced at Raúl’s hip. “Without a weapon.”

  Raúl smiled. “I was merely counting on you to surrender peacefully.”

  “Did you hear that, Count Bautista?” Admiral Von Dirjk bit off a piece of the bread and chewed loudly.

  “I did.” The count smirked. “If you think you can call out to your men, Captain, think again. I instructed my men to board your boat and keep them occupied.”

  Raúl nodded. “Oh, they are occupied, all right.”

  The count and the admiral looked at each other. Count Bautista shouted a series of names, but nobody came. The admiral rushed to the port hole and looked out. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

  “What? What?” the count asked.

  The admiral visibly swallowed. “If I am not mistaken, we are sitting alongside the 120-gun Maria Celestina.”

  “Perfect,” Raúl said. “My men have obviously overpowered your men. I instructed them to board your vessel, lower your sails and row us to the nearest naval ship.” He extended a hand. “Your sword, Admiral?”

  The Dutchman’s lip curled. “Over my dead body!” he said, unsheathing it and rushing towards Raúl.

  “That is unfortunate.” In one motion, Raúl grasped the tablecloth with his left hand, spilling hot soup over the count’s lap. The count jumped up and howled in pain, while the now tablecloth-covered admiral yelled with rage. With his right hand, Raúl caught a dinner knife before it fell to the floor. By the time the admiral surfaced from the fabric, Raúl had put him into a stranglehold and had the knife blade pressed against his throat.

  “Now,” Raúl said, “do you surrender?”

  Raúl returned
to the barracks spent, the adrenaline rush of the evening’s adventure gone. He felt exhaustion in his bones. In his quarters, he kicked off his boots and sank into a chair. He rubbed his face and yawned. On the table, the newspaper laid open. As he stood up to go to bed, a death notice caught his eye. Esperanza Calderón, the wife of a merchant from Cheverra, died three days before.

  Raúl blinked a few times and put a hand out on the table to steady himself.

  Mama was dead.

  No! No!

  He gripped the newspaper and tore into it savagely.

  58

  In the morning, Raúl went to see Count Saldana. “I would like to ask for leave, sir,” Raúl said.

  “I suppose I can spare you now. You haven’t had much of a break, have you?”

  “No, sir. But that’s not the reason why. My mother has died.” He tried to say it calmly, but his voice broke.

  “My condolences,” Count Saldana said, his expression softening.

  “Thank you.” Raúl took a deep breath. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. It might take me a few days. The funeral is in Cheverra.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry about that. Take two, three days. Whatever you need.”

  “That is very kind of you, sir.”

  “Just send word if you’ll stay longer.”

  “I will,” Raúl promised.

  A few minutes later, Raúl knocked on Conchita’s boarding house door. Mother Rita opened it. She eyed him up and down. “What do you want?”

  “I’m here to see Conchita Benavente.”

  Mother Rita’s scowl deepened. “What business do you have with her?”

  “I just need to talk to her.”

  “Talk. Pah. I do not allow men inside.”

  She tried to close the door but Raúl pushed it open. “That is fine. I will wait out here.”

  “Who are you again?”

  He was in street clothes. Of course she wouldn’t know. He sized her up, sure that a title would impress her. “The Captain of the Guards.”

  His rank had an instantaneous effect on the woman, but not in the way he had expected. “I hate the lot of you.” She sprayed spittle all over him. “Get off my property!”