The Falcons of Fire and Ice (21 page)

But Fausto’s smile did not waver, though his eyes were cold and hard as jade. He was not a man who could laugh at a joke made at his own expense.

‘This Cartier clearly knows nothing about the diamond trade and is unable to distinguish a diamond in the rough from a common pebble. I, on the other hand, have learned my trade from the best.’

He leaned forward across the table. ‘When I was travelling in India, I came across a merchant who had the biggest and most perfect diamonds for sale. I asked him where they came from, and for a long time he refused to tell me. Then one day this merchant was attacked by a band of thieves, who tried to strangle and rob him. I saw the attack and galloped in to assist him, fighting furiously until I had helped him beat them off.

‘In his profound gratitude he offered to give me any diamond of my choice from his stock. But I asked instead to be taken to the source of these diamonds. At first he refused, but since he owed a debt of honour to me, he finally agreed to take me to the place, on condition that I allowed myself to be conveyed there and back blindfolded and hooded, so that I could not disclose the route to anyone.

‘I allowed myself to be hooded and was led through the mountains on a mule. It was a terrifying journey since I could feel the steepness of the mountainside as the beast struggled up. I could hear the stones dislodged by the mules’ feet crashing down hundreds of feet below, so I knew the track must be wild and dangerous, but I could do nothing except trust the man in front to lead me safely. Then finally the merchant called for us to stop and my blindfold to be removed. We were standing on the edge of a huge ravine, so deep that great trees below looked like tiny blades of grass, and clouds hung below the cliff edge. The merchant explained that once a mighty river had run through the ravine, carrying with it such a quantity of diamonds that now they lay on the dry bottom in great heaps.’

Dona Flávia’s jaw had dropped open and she had even forgotten to eat. ‘Even the peasants who live there must be as rich as emperors. Imagine such wealth,’ she breathed in awe. ‘It must be paradise.’

‘Ah, but there is always a serpent in paradise, dear lady. The sides of this ravine are sheer rock, much of it overhanging such that no man may gain a foothold, and it is so deep that it would be impossible for anyone to be lowered down by a rope. Many have tried in vain to breach the defences of that ravine, as their skeletons bear witness.’

‘Then forgive me, Senhor Fausto,’ the old man said, ‘but I thought you said this merchant took his diamonds from this place. How is such a thing possible, unless you are telling us the man could fly? Now, that would be a fine tale, Senhor.’

Everyone laughed at this, but Fausto simply smiled. ‘In a manner of speaking, you are correct, Senhor, the merchant did use wings, but not his own. He commanded his servants to take from the panniers pieces of raw meat, sticky with blood, and throw them down into the ravine. Then he whistled. Almost at once, four or five eagles appeared and flew down into the ravine to snatch up the gory feast. The birds were trained to carry the meat up to the cliff top where the servants would take it from them. And there, sticking to the meat, were the diamonds. When the men had gathered sufficient diamonds they rewarded the eagles with their supper.

‘I saw this done with my own eyes and I was determined that I would return alone and try the same trick myself, but as I said, I had been blindfolded and when I did return I could not find my way back to that ravine again. I searched for many weeks, till I was half-dead from exhaustion, but in those mountains I could have searched for a hundred years and not found it. But I assure you, Senhor, unlike this Frenchman, Cartier, I will know the real diamonds when I find them.’

‘The merchant had trained these wild eagles himself? But how did he man them?’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

‘The people of India are much skilled in the art of falconry. But your words tell me you know something of falconry yourself. Are you interested in the art, Meniña? Which hawk do you favour?’

I could have slapped myself for my stupidity. How could I have given myself away so carelessly and the voyage only just begun?

‘I’m afraid I know nothing about hawks,’ I said hastily. ‘I was just fascinated by your story. I’ve never heard of such a wondrous thing before.’

‘I agree, my dear,’ the merchant said. ‘I too have never heard such an
incredible
tale. But you must be careful not to believe everything travellers tell you. Young girls inexperienced in the ways of the world may easily be dazzled by fine words.’

Fausto glared furiously at him and half-rose as if he meant to be revenged for such an insult, but however he intended to retaliate, he was forestalled by Dona Flávia who suddenly seemed to remember that she knew nothing about me.

‘And what brings you aboard this ship, my dear? You are very young to be travelling alone. Have you no parents or kin? Is there no chaperone with you? Was Senhor Fausto correct to address you as Meniña? Are you unmarried?’

‘Yes … no, I mean, I am married.’ If my face was as red as it felt, I was sure I was lighting up half the ship like the flames in the cookbox.

‘And your husband is allowing you to make a long sea journey alone?’ Dona Flávia looked scandalized. ‘Whatever –’

But at that moment the trumpet sounded again and two bare-footed boys came scampering across the deck as if they had been waiting for the signal. They began to gather up the wooden bowls and plates with such haste that some of the passengers were left holding their spoons suspended in mid-air as the bowls they were eating from were whisked off the table.

The cook, having ignored us up to now, strode up to the table, wiping his greasy hands down the front of his breeches. ‘Come along, let’s be having you. Lads have to lay up the table for the captain. Shift your arses. The lads are scrawny but they’re not ghosts, they can’t work through you.’

‘This is an outrage,’ Dona Flávia spluttered, attempting to wrest her bowl back from the hands of one lad who was equally determined to keep hold of it. ‘We haven’t finished eating yet.’

‘Then you’ll know to eat faster next time, won’t you?’ said the cook with complete indifference. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for you to gab on this voyage. Nothing else for you to do, is there? So what you want to remember is mealtimes is for eating and the rest of the time for talking. You’ll soon get the hang of it.’

One of the young lads sniggered, and the cook cuffed him across the back of his head, causing him to lose his grip on the dish he was attempting to wrest from Dona Flávia. The dish jerked upwards and the remains of the wheat pudding, her third helping, landed with a wet plop on her neck. For a moment no one seemed able to do anything except stare as the mess slowly began to ooze down into her ample cleavage.

Then Dona Flávia gave an ear-piercing shriek. The boy fled and the cook reached out his hand as if he was going to attempt to grab the mess before it disappeared down inside her gown. This only seemed to alarm the poor woman more, and clutching her dress to her as if she feared he was going to rip it off, she fled, howling, to the passengers’ quarters as fast as her bulk would allow, pursued by gales of laughter from those seamen who had witnessed her misfortune.

The cook wiped his perspiring face with his sleeve. ‘Senhor, your wife …’ He seemed to be struggling to control his face. ‘Rest assured I will thrash that boy till his back’s as black as a tar barrel. Not that it will do the slightest good. Captain bought young Hinrik there from his father in Iceland when he was seven, that was nigh on five years ago, but you’d think he only came aboard yesterday, he’s that clumsy. No amount of beating him seems to knock any sense into the lad. Reckon his father didn’t sell him ’cause he needed the money, but just to get shot of the useless blockhead.’

‘I would not have the lad beaten,’ the merchant said. ‘On this occasion he was not entirely to blame. But I believe it would be wise to allow my dear wife a little privacy just now … so that she can change her gown, you understand.’

He glanced anxiously towards the passengers’ quarters. He evidently wanted to avoid returning there for as long as possible. I didn’t blame him and I certainly had no intention of going back there either, at least until Dona Flávia was safely asleep.

Fausto and Marcos were engrossed in discovering which seaman had the best wine for sale on board, and the merchant and Vítor had wandered over to join a small group of sailors who were sitting on coils of rope eating their meals and listening to a young lad singing about the women left behind in every port.

I found a dark corner in the stern of the boat and stood there, watching the lights of the ship’s lanterns trailing across the black water. The flames separated into a thousand tiny reflections as if a shoal of bright yellow fish was following the ship. The waves foamed white in the darkness and the wind, though still warm, tugged at my clothes. Closer inshore tiny fishing boats dipped up and down on the waves, and occasionally the outline of a man would appear, stripped to the waist and silhouetted against the boat’s lanterns, as he pulled in his nets. Yellow and red lights dotted the distant shoreline, like jewels on a black velvet gown. And above them, a great arc of white stars hung in the sky. For a moment, staring up at them, I could feel blessedly alone.

But a raucous gale of laughter from the sailors quickly reminded me I was very far from alone. I was trapped with a score of others, any one of whom might discover who I really was and inform the captain he had a heretic on board. I had seen the way those seamen blessed their ship. Sailing with a heretic on board would, in their eyes, be worse than if someone had hidden a curse-doll on the ship. I had to think of a plausible story to protect myself. Dona Flávia would not be diverted for long and, as the cook had reminded me, we would be many weeks aboard this ship, and what else would there be to do but talk? I couldn’t hide from her for ever.

The ship juddered as a large wave rammed it and the huge square sails snapped as a sudden gust of wind filled them, making it leap forward like a startled horse. I shivered in the wind. Then I felt something heavy envelop me. Vítor was standing behind me. He had swung his short cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it about mine.

‘I hope you have some warmer clothes for when we get further north, else you’ll freeze.’

In truth I hadn’t even considered that. I had brought a few clothes from my closet at home which I wore through the chilly days of winter on the hilltop of Sintra. Would it be colder than that? Would I be able to buy warm clothes there? I gnawed at my lip, thinking of how much I had paid for the voyage, and I had yet to find a ship to bring me home. I dared not spend too much on other things.

Vítor put his head on one side. ‘Trying to avoid Dona Flávia?’

‘No, of course not,’ I said too quickly, then, seeing the exaggerated rise of his eyebrows, I smiled. ‘Are you avoiding her too? Afraid she might lecture you again about the folly of provoking sea monsters?’

He laughed. His breath was sweet, but not from wine. ‘I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Though I don’t think Senhora Flávia has anything to fear from sea monsters, it is they who would take fright at the sight of her.’

‘Are you really intending to capture such beasts?’

‘Capture, perhaps not. If I brought such a fish aboard this ship, bishop or not, the cook would soon have it broiling on his fire.’

‘Then why are you travelling to Iceland?’

His smile vanished abruptly. ‘Must a man have only one reason for going on a journey? I might ask you the same, Senhora, or is it really Meniña?’

‘I am married,’ I snapped with the kind of indignation that flares up when a lie is questioned. ‘My husband’s in Iceland. He promised he would send for me when he was settled and now he is.’ I was glad that it was too dark for him to see my face.

‘A Portuguese settled in Iceland. That is unusual – a Catholic in a Protestant land.’

‘He’s a Dane. I … met him when he came here to trade. We fell in love.’

‘So you are married to a Protestant. Is that why you travel alone? Have your family disowned you?’

I nodded. That much at least did not feel like a lie. My mother and I had parted on the worst of terms. She was going to stay with her sister, and I knew they would take her in. But when I told her where I was going, my mother had torn open the bodice of her dress telling me to cut out her heart and eat it in front of her. Why not, she said, that was what I was already doing to her – ripping out her heart. For an only child, a daughter no less, to abandon her mother at a time like this, was a crime more wicked than murder.

As I stood there on the rolling deck, her face swam before me again, white and pinched, her eyes wet with tears, but not softened by them, her voice as harsh as a seagull’s screaming at me that we were not Marranos. How could I even suggest such a thing? It was all a lie, a wicked lie, and how could I be so cruel as to taunt her with this, hadn’t she already suffered enough by losing her husband? She spoke as if he had already been taken by the angel of death, as if she was now a grieving widow. Maybe that is what she would tell her sister – that her husband was dead. And she would say it as if it was the truth, for in her head, like so much else in her life, she had already convinced herself it was.

I was so preoccupied with my mother’s words that I didn’t realize that Vítor was still talking.

‘… when we reach Iceland. But in the meantime, Isabela, allow me to offer myself as your protector, if only from the dragon, Dona Flávia.’

I didn’t register what he had said at first, the name was slipped in so smoothly among the words.

‘It is Isabela, isn’t it?’ he asked softly. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman and one you can be sure I will remember.’

Iceland Eydis

Pelt –
the dead body of the hawk’s prey or quarry.

I keep the man alive because I have to do it. Like Ari, I ask myself a thousand times a day if I should let him die and I know beyond any doubt that I should. But I also realize now that he will not simply cease to live, for in truth I am doing little to keep him alive. I have bound his wounds and covered them in herb poultices so that they do not fester. Five times a day I wash his mouth with water and put honey beneath his tongue. But these ministrations are not enough to help him recover. He is injured in ways I can never heal. Any other man would have died within hours of being brought to the cave, but he lives. Not waking, not stirring, but still he lives.