by Tina Donahue
One afternoon, he threw back his covers. “I need to leave this bed. I want to walk.”
Enrique and Pedro caught him before he fell to the floor, his legs too thin and weak, wobbling worse than a newborn colt.
With their help, he walked a bit more each day, at last growing strong enough to cross the room on his own. The short journey left him panting and leaning against the wall for support.
Worried, Enrique pulled Sancha aside. “Will he ever be hearty again?”
“Once he fills out, he will be the same as always. You need to stop worrying.”
“If I could, I would. Have I thanked you for your courage and skill? Without you, he would have died.”
“I like Tomás far too much to let such a thing happen.”
Laughing softly, he pulled her into his embrace. “You are a wonder. Promise never to do anything as foolish as this again.”
She eased away, her lovely face drained of enthusiasm, heavy with disappointment.
He sighed. “When you do proceed, I insist on being at your side.”
“Always.”
* * * *
At last, the time came to leave for the castle, Tomás accompanying them to convalesce in a comfortable bedchamber with servants available to indulge his every need. Enrique had already sent word ahead for Hortensia to prepare for their arrival.
Outside the stronghold, Tomás stopped and wrinkled his nose. “You expect me to ride in a carriage like a mere woman?”
Sancha crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “A mere what?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “In no way did I mean you, dear Sancha, wondrous Sancha, beauteous Sancha, glorious—”
“Here he goes,” Enrique said, happy to have his too-charming brother back. “If you keep going on as you always do, we will never arrive. Get in.”
“How can I with these blankets wrapped around me? I am not a helpless babe.”
Enrique slung his arm around his brother’s neck and pulled him close, not wanting anyone to overhear. “Would you prefer to stay and have the surgeon bleed you again?”
“I have no wish to die. However, I refuse to get in that thing until I say farewell to my men.”
“Do so quickly.”
He took an inordinate amount of time to wish his fellow knights well, taking every opportunity he could to state how his brothers’ care and Sancha’s pleas to God had saved him.
“Yes,” he said, answering one warrior’s question, “Enrique did shove food down my throat despite my protests. Did I tell you how Pedro tried to outdo him by forcing me to drink whatever he could get his hands on? None of my oaths stopped either of them.”
The men laughed.
“If not for Sancha, they would have surely killed me.” Tomás gave her a sweet smile. “Much to my delight, she called Enrique and Pedro away from my bedside to see if they were also growing sick. She made certain they ate their fill and had enough rest before returning to torment me.” He sighed. “Many times at night I heard her fervent prayers, begging for my good health, asking God to spare me, the same as she prayed for Fernando. My brother Enrique is a lucky man and hardly deserves her.”
How true.
The knights clamped Enrique on the shoulder or patted his back, respect in their expressions for Sancha.
She smiled shyly, playing the demure wife.
What a woman he had in her.
At last, they were on their way home, guards around the perimeter, Sancha riding in the carriage with Tomás, Pedro driving the conveyance, Enrique on his mount, lighthearted for the first time in weeks.
He glanced at his brother. “How long can you stay with us?”
“After a few days of your excellent food and wine, I must go back to the stronghold.” He gestured Enrique closer so they could talk without the guards overhearing. “Sancha was magnificent. If we had left Tomás to the surgeon, the fool would have bled him dry.”
“He and the sacerdote seemed more concerned with saving their own hides than their patient’s.”
“Not everyone is as brave as your wife. Speaking of which, what of her sisters besides Isabella? Are any of them as courageous, beautiful, and knowledgeable as Sancha is?”
“None of them are around. Carmen and Concepcion are at Court under the Queen’s tutelage. From what Sancha has said, they prefer jewels, silks, velvets, and combs to any kind of knowledge. However, they are supposed to be quite beautiful and not for you or Tomás to woo or even think about.”
“Why not?”
“Two brothers wedding two sisters is enough for any family. Find a wife somewhere else.”
“Who said I was looking for a wife?”
Enrique shot a look at Pedro. “Stay away from Sancha’s sisters. Tell Tomás the same.”
“How good it is to have him back.”
Yes. After the recent turmoil, Enrique couldn’t wait to get home, relax, eat a good meal, and sleep in his own bed with Sancha at his side.
* * * *
They reached the castle at midday. A servant and Pedro helped Tomás to his room.
With the alforjas over one shoulder, Enrique slipped his arm around Sancha’s waist. “Too tired to eat?”
“I would love several helpings of whatever the cook has prepared. Have you ever seen a lovelier day? Still quite warm for this time of year. Can we have our meal by the pond?”
“Of course.”
“Patrón. Señora.” Hortensia hurried to them. “You have a visitor. I asked her to wait over there.” She gestured to the small room off the entrance.
He exchanged a glance with Sancha, then leaned down to Hortensia to avoid other servants hearing the converse. “Is the visitor Señorita Luscinda?”
“No. Countess Katia.”
Sancha brightened instantly. “What a delightful woman. She was so kind to take care of Rosa when we left to see Tomás. She must be here to find out about him. Come.”
She tugged Enrique’s hand.
At the sound of their footfalls, Katia turned from the window, her red velvet gown as regal as her bearing.
“How wonderful to see you.” Sancha ran across the room and threw her arms around the woman.
Katia’s face glowed with affection. Enrique couldn’t have been more pleased. She would make a great ally for his wife.
After he greeted the old woman, Sancha bounced on her heels like a young girl. “We have good news. Tomás is here, making his recovery.”
“How wonderful. I am so glad.”
“Come.” Sancha slipped her arm through Katia’s. “We can enjoy a repast at the pond.”
“I fear not.” Katia patted Sancha’s arm then stepped away to close the door.
Enrique grew apprehensive again. “You have something to tell us?”
“I do.” She looked at them both with kindness and sorrow. “I attended a gathering last night. Luscinda was there. She knew Tomás had survived. How, I have no idea. Perhaps the servants talked as they always do.” She spoke to Sancha. “She told a group of women your pact with the Devil was the only thing that could have possibly spared Tomás from death. As soon as she can, Luscinda plans to take her suspicions to the tribunal.”
Chapter 16
Everything stopped. Sancha’s breath, the wind brushing past the castle, Katia’s words. The countess’s mouth moved but Sancha didn’t hear anything further. She squeezed Enrique’s hand, though she couldn’t recall having reached for him.
He led her to a leather chair, his arm around her waist, supporting her. She could barely walk, her legs heavy, the rest of her bristling with loathing for Luscinda.
She hated the woman not only for what she’d do to her, but Enrique and his brothers. The tribunal would find them guilty too, because Tomás had survived and Enrique, along with Pedro, had taken her to the fortaleza to do the Devil’s work.
“You have to flee.” She dropped to the chair. “Is there time enough?”
He san
k to one knee at her side. “What are you talking about?”
“You must go. Tomás and Pedro have to leave with you. When the tribunal learns you and your brothers were with me at the fortaleza, all will be lost.”
“No one will learn anything because you have done nothing except pray for my brother’s recovery. Nor will I ever flee. Not from the tribunal and certainly not the wretch’s lies.” He spoke to Katia. “Do you know where Luscinda is now?”
Sancha grabbed his sleeve. “What do you intend to do?”
“Finish this as I should have from the beginning.”
She cried, “If you harm her, there will be no end to this for you. Please, you and your brothers need to find somewhere safe to live. Leave me to deal with this alone—oh no.” She tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t hold her.
“What happened?” Enrique took her hand. “Is it the babe?”
“No. The inquisitors will pull Isabella into this too. I have to send a missive at once to warn her and Fernando to—”
“You need to relax before you harm yourself and our child.” He lifted his face to Katia. “Would you ask Hortensia to bring Sancha some water and to have Pedro come in here?”
“Of course.” She hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
“I will never leave you.” He gathered her to him. “Nor will I allow anyone to harm you, Isabella, or any of my family. This stops now.”
Holding back tears, she slipped her arms around his neck, cherishing his warmth and strength, savoring his scent. How many more moments would she have to simply embrace him before circumstances separated them forever? She pulled him as close as she could and it still wasn’t enough. “Forgive me for bringing you such pain.”
“You have given me naught but joy and will continue to so for the rest of our lives.”
A sob tore from her. “We have no life left. Luscinda will never stop. You heard what Katia said. The wretch will go to the tribunal. Whatever I do or say, she will continue to accuse.”
“Accusations go in both directions.”
Pedro rushed inside followed by Katia. She closed the door.
“What do we do?” he asked Enrique.
“Send missives to Fernando, Alfonso, and Gabriello. Have them come here immediately.”
“To do what?” Sancha fingered tears from her eyes. “Fight against the authorities when they come to arrest me?”
He smoothed back her hair. “No one is going to arrest you.”
“Not with us here.” Pedro tapped Enrique’s shoulder. “Tomás wants to join us in whatever we plan. He insists. There is no way we can sway him.”
Enrique muttered an oath but nodded.
“No.” Sancha frowned at him and Pedro. “I will not have Tomás risk his health for me. I forbid it, and for any of you to put yourselves in danger on my behalf.”
“The only one in danger will be Luscinda.” Enrique pecked her tear-stained cheek. “Thanks to the countess, I now have proof the rumors began and continued with the wretch. As I said, accusations go both ways.”
“You believe accusing Luscinda of being the one who started this will cause her to stop or recant?”
“No. But accusing her of witchcraft will.”
“What?”
“Time to give Luscinda a taste of what cruel rumors can do.”
* * * *
Pedro’s twin, Alfonso, arrived late the same evening along with Gabriello. Enrique told his brothers he expected Fernando to join them early on the morrow without Isabella. Sancha insisted her sister stay home to avoid being part of this or in danger from Luscinda.
Gathered in Enrique’s study, the brothers devised their confrontation with the woman. How they would trap Luscinda with her own words, as she loved to do with others.
According to Katia, Luscinda would be in Córdoba during the next week, she and her mother the guests of a wealthy merchant. Luscinda’s original intent had been to attend the fair once the festivities began, several days from now. Her purpose at this point? Everyone knew the Inquisition had tribunals in Córdoba and Sevilla.
Enrique and his brothers didn’t seem alarmed by that fact or her earlier threats.
“We should be able to find her at the merchant’s home, plotting as always,” Gabriello said. His hair was dark like Enrique’s, his features almost identical to Tomás’s.
Though weak, Tomás was alert, his expression as determined as his brothers. No one would keep him from this meet.
Nor would they do so with Sancha. She finally interrupted the men’s converse. “When do we leave?”
Enrique turned from Pedro who’d been speaking. “We?”
“I intend to come with you.”
He frowned. “No. My brothers and I will handle this.”
“You want me to hide here while you confront her?”
“I want you to stay here and be safe.”
“No.” With the passing hours, outrage had replaced her worry. “If you fight, I fight. When you fight, I fight.”
“In your condition?”
She threw up her hands. “I am with child, Enrique, not dying.”
Gabriello and Alfonso smiled.
Tomás leaned toward Enrique. “Sancha should join us. Prove to Luscinda we stand together on this. She harms one of us, she harms all.”
The other brothers nodded.
Enrique sagged in his chair and sighed loudly. “You let us do the talking.”
“Forgive me, but no, I intend to have my say.”
He regarded her. “What exactly?”
She smiled. “Something I just thought of.” A truth so impossible to challenge, she was surprised not to have considered the notion earlier.
Enrique and his brothers looked intrigued. Tomás grinned conspiratorially. “Come, tell us, dear Sancha, sweet Sancha, lovely San—”
“Yes, please tell us,” Gabriello said. “Before Tomás goes on all night.”
Tomás grumbled at his brother’s teasing. Sancha kept her peace.
* * * *
Fernando arrived early the next morning and hugged her first. He looked virile and strong, as though his battle with her uncle had never occurred. Pleased to see him, she returned his hearty embrace.
“I hear you are with child,” he said.
“The same as Isabella. How is she?” Sancha eased away and planted her hands on her hips. “Are you treating her well?”
He pulled a letter out of his pouch. “I have a feeling she told you in this.”
Delighted to have word from her sister, she scanned the note quickly.
My dearest Sancha,
How I wish I could be there for this meet, but I agree with you and my husband that by staying here I will keep you from worrying about me.
I have no more fear for you.
Your Enrique, my Fernando, and their brave brothers will protect you well.
I cannot wait to learn what happens.
Make the puta pay for the pain she has caused you.
Sancha laughed at Isabella’s foul language. No matter how many times Fernando had warned her not to use terms such as puto or puta, Isabella kept doing so.
“What did she write?” Fernando asked.
Sancha held the missive to her breast. “A note to me, not you.”
“Best you never know what the letter contains,” Tomás said.
Enrique took Sancha’s hand. “Are you still certain you want to go?”
She nodded. Nothing would keep her away.
* * * *
The merchant’s home was at the end of a narrow street in the lovely city, vines with waxy green leaves climbing the building’s white walls, ironwork grills over the windows.
The female servant who opened the front door stared at so many men and one lone woman.
Enrique took charge immediately. “Señor Guzman is here?”
“No. He had business to attend to.”
“Señorita
Luscinda Cortés is inside?”
“In the courtyard, awaiting her mamá’s return. Who should I say is calling on her?”
“We will tell her ourselves.” He moved past the woman.
“No.” She waved her hands frantically. “You must wait for me to announce you.”
Ignoring her pleas, Sancha and the rest filed in.
The home was cool, clean, shadowed against the day’s lingering warmth, and quite luxurious. Its many Moorish touches, including arched entryways, colorful mosaic tiles, silk pillows and drapes called to mind a Sultan’s harem Sancha had heard so much gossip about.
In the courtyard, water poured from a fountain. Orange and lemon trees created sweet scents and abundant shade in the enclosed area. Enough to save a señorita’s flawless complexion from the sun.
Luscinda relaxed on a grand Moorish chair beneath a large tree, a yellow silk pillow behind her back, a green one beneath her feet. She, or more probably a servant, had braided her hair. The thick black coil dangled over her shoulder, the end touching the waist of her crimson gown.
“You must wait,” the servant called once more.
Luscinda glanced up from the letter she held. Shock crossed her face at Sancha, Enrique, and his brothers’ approach as one, a united force.
She stood so quickly, her feet caught on the pillow, nearly sending her to the ground.
“Forgive me, señorita.” The servant wrung her hands. “They gave me no chance to announce them.”
Luscinda glared at Enrique. “What are you doing here?”
“What else?” Sancha folded her hands in front. “Accusing you of witchcraft.”
“As is our duty to God and Spain,” Enrique said.
The servant made the sign of the cross over herself.
Luscinda lost what little color she had. She backed away. Enrique advanced. “There.” He pointed at her throat. “I see the Devil’s mark.”
“I do too.” Fernando strode close. “And another on her hand.”
Luscinda dropped her letter.
With his boot on the missive, Tomás turned to the others. “I heard her at the gathering a few days ago. She promised the baroness eternal youth if only she’d give her soul to the—”
“You lie,” Luscinda said.
