Infinite Devotion (Infinite Series, Book 2)

by L. E. Waters

  “Amen,” we follow somberly.

  There’s no merriment that night. Before the purple light of dawn has faded, we’re startled awake by screaming from our lookout. Again we rush to the turret facing their shore, all groggy with our blankets draped over us. Expecting to see something terrible, I’m surprised to see the sky filled with fat snowflakes.

  “How long has this been falling?’ The captain asks, bewildered.

  “Only started twenty minutes ago. When it started covering everything, I thought I should get you!”

  “Only twenty minutes and it’s coating the ground already!” He gives a cheer and says, “What luck, what luck!”

  We stay up there under our blankets wrapped around our heads. The wind’s blowing fiercely, and the snowflakes fall, crisscrossing one another, causing our eyes to go in and out of focus. Andres keeps sticking his little tongue out, trying to get the large flakes that would drift near him, tempting him. The snow is knee-deep within hours, with no sign of relenting. Bella disappears in the snow and begins tunneling through, popping up here and there with her head covered in snow.

  Alvaro perks up at something. “Captain, there’s definite movement.”

  We all stand and watch. The English have packed up their tents, and every man is on his horse. The men farthest away from us leave first, and we watch as they all ready to retreat, ending the siege.

  The captain, seeing the Lord Deputy leave his warm tent and getting help on his horse, screams out, “Go Santiago!”

  All of us jump up and scream it with him again. “Go Santiago!”

  The Lord Deputy looks our way but, just as quickly and pompously, kicks his horse to follow the procession off MacClancy’s land. We throw off our blankets and embrace in clumsy groups, jumping and still yelling, “Go Santiago!” while tears stream down our faces.

  The captain then turns to us and says, “Eight fire ships may have scattered one hundred thirty ships, but eleven Spanish soldiers scattered seventeen hundred Englishmen!”

  We cheer and put our arms around each other, amazed we’re all still alive.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  When Andres and I see the parade trailing back down the mountain two weeks later, we know our threesome’s going to be divided once again. Part of me wishes some harm has befallen Nessa so that the thing I feared would not come to pass. I’d imagined her tripping on the snow-covered mountainside and falling off, never to be seen again. But there she is, leading them through the snow with her ugly pinched face smiling, and Andres and I turn away as Pepe runs to her and hugs her.

  MacClancy’s hairy face is beaming. He looks upon us with greater respect and even shakes all of our hands with as much esteem. All of the women wrap new blankets around our backs and gift us with raw steaks they’d prepared for our celebration of winning the siege. Though half-cooked and unsalted, it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. The juices drip down my face, and everyone’s filled with such joy. MacClancy asks the captain to tell the story over and over and each time yells, “Go Santiago!” with him at the end. Alvaro dances after finishing two steaks and actually takes a fair maiden to jig with him. Andres looks on, slightly jealous, since he usually jigs with him, but we clap to the beat everyone’s fast feet are keeping. Even the captain asks Urard to dance, and she brays in surprise then sweeps the captain off his feet. At the end of the song, MacClancy gets everyone’s attention with the horn. He gestures for the captain to come stand by him, and the captain translates.

  “He says he can’t thank his brave Spaniards enough for holding his castle—the castle his ancestors held for hundreds of years.”

  MacClancy puts his hand on the captain’s shoulder, and by his serious gaze, speaks words to him of great importance. After he finishes, he embraces the captain tightly and pounds his back with his fists. The savages, hearing what he says, cheer and put their hands high in the air in celebration.

  He turns with a not so joyous look to us and says, “He wants us to stay here and fight the English with him, unite, and marry into his clan.”

  This makes the Spaniards nervous and uneasy, all except Pepe who says, “It might not be such a bad idea, Captain. This may be our only chance for a life. There may be no safe passage back to Spain.”

  If anyone else had said that, it might have made sense, but since it was him, I retaliated immediately. “We are Spaniards, and our home is Spain!”

  The Spaniards cheer at this, and one says, “Live Spanish or die Spanish, there is no other way!”

  MacClancy misinterprets our cheers to mean agreement, and Nessa runs from the crowd and jumps into Pepe’s arms.

  MacClancy speaks again. His voice is deep and full of happy emotion as he pulls the captain back against his powerful frame and then with the other hand reaches out for one of the tallest figures in the room and brings her in front of him. Everyone cheers again, and the music starts up, and they pass the couple all around the crowd with everyone touching the pair with a blessing.

  The captain has no time to translate, and after the commotion is over, he bows to the chief and then grabs Alvaro to huddle up with Andres, Pepe, and me. “We’re leaving tonight, boys. Go fill your pockets with bread, return to your rooms, and pretend to sleep until no one is stirring. Then meet me by the tunnel.” He checks over his shoulder to be sure no one is within earshot.

  “Where will we go?” Andres asks.

  “Anywhere closer to home. If we stay here, I worry we’ll never set foot on Spanish soil again.” He starts to laugh. “Urard is MacClancy’s sister, for Christ’s sake. He offered that she-man up to me!” His eyes widen and his volume rises. “There is such a thing as too much friendship!”

  “I’m done with this place too, Captain. Time to move on,” Alvaro says as he walks away toward the breadbaskets.

  “Good boys,” he says, slapping our backs, and walks off pretending to be happy about the chief’s blessing to unite.

  Andres and I start to fill our pockets too. Pepe floats near us but doesn’t grab at any bread. Andres grabs some and stuffs it in his pockets for him. As soon as we fill every possible pocket and spot in our tight pants, we find our way to our small, dark room.

  Trying to stay awake, we reminisce about watching the captain betrothed to Urard in front of everyone. We’re laughing so hard someone shushes us from the room across from ours. Quieting down, Andres ventures where I didn’t have the courage.

  “So, are you going to come with us, Pepe?” His eyes already guess the answer.

  Pepe stalls. “I don’t know.”

  He becomes quiet again, forcing me to say something. “Well, do you want to stay here forever?”

  He simply gives us a pained look and stares down at his feet.

  “Do you want to learn her strange language? Her savage customs? Live in the foreign land for the rest of your life? Drinking sour milk and oaten bread? Letting your hair grow past your eyes?”

  Andres snickers at the last line I threw in.

  This hits a nerve. His head darts up, and his green eyes blaze. “And what do I have back in Spain? Huh? My mother left me! I have no family! No home! No…”

  “What? No friends? Really? Because I thought we were best friends! I thought we were family! We all have been left, but we’ll always have each other, forever!” I’m crying so hard by the end of this, I can’t finish, but Andres does for me.

  “Pepe, you’re like our brother. We didn’t have anyone else, but together we can be strong. Together we can get through anything. You leave us now, and you lose that—we lose that!”

  He stays quiet and gazes up at us with a look I can’t figure out. It could be a look of guilt, a look of anger, or a look of love. Whatever it is, it was the last I saw his face. He walks out of the room without glancing back.

  We wait until the music ceases and the footsteps die away, scattering off to sleeping quarters. Even after the last sound we hear, we wait ten minutes more, although we’re worried if we wait
too long the captain will think we wanted to stay. We get up in the pitch dark and try to make as little noise as possible, but Bella begins doing circles ahead of us, making scratching sounds with her claws in excitement. Andres bumps into something in the hall and yelps, but a quick hand stifles his noise.

  “Shhh,” Alvaro says.

  Andres holds on to his shirt as he walks on in front of us and I grab onto Andres, since there’s no moon out to shed light.

  “Alvaro, help me with this. Quietly!” the captain hisses as he strains to slide the weight of the planks across the door. They make a slight thud on the stone floor, but it’s the gentlest they could be.

  Alvaro pulls the heavy door open, and it makes an eerie squeak that seems to amplify in the silence and ricochet off the walls of the castle into every room. We hold our breath and wait for him to come. The captain exhales and puts his hand on each one of us, and I realize he’s counting when he asks, “Where’s Pepe?”

  I turn around, hoping to hear him coming, but Andres says, “He’s staying here.”

  “I knew that boy had no brain,” the captain says as he steps over the threshold into the even darker cave, and Alvaro follows.

  “He’s not coming, Luis.” Andres leaves the castle.

  I turn again, straining my ears to hear someone running to catch us, but no sound stirs. I can’t believe he’s actually picking her over us. Bella waits for me and watches the emptiness I’m searching in.

  I turn and move on too.

  Chapter 17

  We trudge over the windy mountains and follow the soggy road beside the sea north for three days, resting only when the captain has to sit and put his bad leg up. At night, when we’re especially tired after walking what must have been fifteen miles, we talk for the first time all day.

  “It’s a good thing we have Bella here with us.” Alvaro scratches her behind her ears, making her put her nose in the air and lick.

  “I hate when she does that,” Andres says with a disgusted look.

  The captain lies back with his leg in the air, rubbing down the leg. “She has a wonderful talent for smelling English military scouts. As soon as those pointed ears perk up, we should all hide.”

  “Well, I’m down to my last loaf of bread,” I say.

  Alvaro speaks. “You better make that last. You’ve been eating far too much. I’ve two loaves left, and that’ll last me four more days at least.”

  “But we’ve been sharing ours with Bella!” Andres protests, but Alvaro bends over and shakes Andres’s rapidly growing belly. “Oh, you poor, poor thing.”

  Andres pulls away from his grasp. “I’m proud of my little belly. It’s been sunken for months!”

  Alvaro snickers but then turns serious again. “Captain, how long are we to keep going? We can’t make a fire without drawing attention and if another cold front hits us, we’ll have to find shelter.”

  The captain puts his leg back down and rolls up to a stand. “Well, then, we better keep moving.”

  Alvaro, Andres, and I stay on the ground, wrapped in our blankets. We hate how the captain never needs to sleep. We’re only lucky that he did have a sore leg because he might never have stopped.

  “Come on, now!” Bella runs to him. “You’ll have plenty of time to rest when you’re dead. Which you’ll be closer to every moment we waste.” He starts hobbling back off north.

  Alvaro gets up too. “He’s right. We better keep moving until we can’t move anymore.”

  “That might be pretty soon,” Andres complains as he stumbles on his blanket getting up.

  We walk most of the night and stop only once for a short nap. By morning, we see a large village settlement right on the coast.

  The captain turns to us. “Boys, you wait here, since I’m the only one that speaks Latin. I’ll sneak in and try to find a holy man for aid.”

  Alvaro starts walking. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, Alvaro, no use in risking both our necks. Besides, you should stay with the little ones.”

  Andres gives a look mirroring my feeling of inferiority the captain just labeled us with.

  He hands his blanket and his over shirt to Alvaro. “No need to have these stolen from me.” Bella follows as he walks off, but he says, “No, Bella.” She runs back to us but watches intently as he slowly follows the road into the village.

  It seems like a very long time before we sight him again, but in reality it was probably only a few hours. He comes back with a nice thick woolen cloak, and Bella sprints to him, doing circles of joy upon his return.

  “Well…” He lets out his breath but unveils a large wooden jug and two large fresh loaves.

  Alvaro holds the jug immediately up to his mouth. “Wine!”

  The captain pulls it away eagerly from him and gulps. “We haven’t had wine for four months now, I think.”

  Then he hands it to us and breaks the bread in four sections. “We’ll each give Bella a piece so Andres won’t suffer more.”

  We laugh, and the bread’s still warm when he hands it to me.

  The captain gazes out on the damp and windy coast, chewing loudly. “Ireland’s a miserable place.”

  “I would face hanging to reach sunny Spain again,” Alvaro agrees as we eat and drink.

  After his last bite, the captain takes the last drop of wine from the jug. “So, I found a small chapel in the center of the village. I slipped in unobserved. A priest was lighting the candles of the saints when I walked in. As soon as I asked for assistance, he took his own cloak and gave it to me and disappeared only to bring me back this bread and wine. He offered shelter for the night but warned that the deputy’s men made unannounced visits to the village, searching for Spaniards. I said I wanted to keep moving, but asked where should I go. He said he knew of a”—but he spontaneously sucks in a quick inhale and as quickly burps it back out and continues like nothing had happened—“bishop in the village Derry, about three days’ hard travel on foot from here if the weather complies. He said this good bishop was harboring Spaniards in a large castle on a hill and was trying to get them a ship to Scotland.” He stands up, puts the cloak around Andres, whose teeth are chattering, and ties a rope around his waist to hold the hem up.

  “Thank you,” Andres says, finally getting warm again.

  “Off again, boys!” He takes the jug with him. “We’ll use this for saving water if we find a nice well or creek.”

  We make such good time that we reach Derry in two and half days. Just in time for a storm to blow in across the sea. We see the only castle at the top of the hill beside a cemetery and run in for shelter before we’re soaked to the bone. A young monk sees us and hears our unfamiliar tongue, and immediately goes to get the Bishop.

  The short but pleasant-looking man walks to us with his arms outstretched in welcome. He doesn’t at all dress like the bishops I’d seen going in Corunna, adorned with gilded robes and tall silk hats. He looks like all of the other savages we’ve seen. The captain tears up at the sight of him regardless of dress, seeks out his hand, and kisses his ring. The bishop quickly brings him back up, embraces him warmly, and speaks to the captain. He waves back to the young monk who brought us dry blankets and takes our wet ones away. He holds them out far from him like he’s worried about vermin hopping off.

  He turns, and the captain translates, “The Bishop O’Gallagher wants us to follow him.”

  “Why is he dressed like a savage?” Andres asks under his breath.

  “Because the English are searching for a bishop,” the captain says with a smirk.

  The bishop takes us to a room up the narrow dark stairs, where a dozen more Spaniards sit in front of the fireplace, eating their supper. They jump to their feet at the sight of us, and one says, “Friends!”

  But the bishop steps in and, with great emphasis says, “Captain!”

  The men seem ecstatic at this and one says, “We’ve been waiting for a captain to get us off this cursed island.”

  The captain appears bot
h flattered and confused by this welcome.

  “You see,” the leader of the group starts, “the bishop has acquired a pinnace to get to the safety of Scotland, but none of us are sailors, all worthless soldiers.” They all laugh at this.

  The captain puts his hands on Alvaro. “Not only am I a captain, but I have here my commander and two brave sailors.” I almost tear at his compliments to us; I forgive him completely for his “little ones” comment before.

  The men clap, and the bishop says, “If you ask, then you shall receive,” and he looks up with his hands clasped toward the ceiling.

  “Which ship did you captain?” the leader asks.

  “The beautiful San Pedro,” the captain says, sitting by the fire, and some of the men rush to get him bread, butter, and wine. “And all of you?”

  “We came from the Trinidad Valancera.” He looks at his companions.

  “Only twelve survive?” Alvaro asks.

  He pauses a moment. “Our ship started to sink when we rounded Scotland, but we made it to the Irish shore before she finally sank. Three hundred men made it to the shore alive, and we were immediately helped by the kind Chieftain O’Doherty, who took us all to Bishop O’Gallagher, who harbored us in his castle.” He takes another moment. “English troops came on horseback, came with muskets pointed at the surrounded castle. They promised fair treatment if we would surrender. So we trusted this deputy’s promise and came out with our hands up. They marched us up to a field and stripped us of our clothing, then herded us in the center and began shooting us!”

  His voice rises and his face turns red. The other men look either to their feet or to the fire. The speaker takes a breath to calm himself and his voice lowers. “In the bloody confusion, some of us managed to escape, and we ran back to the bishop for help. He took us all in again at the risk of his own safety, and we’ve been waiting for someone who can take us across the channel.” He spreads his hands out to the twelve of them. “This is all that is left of three hundred.”