The Flesh and the Devil (44 page)

         
‗I beg your pardon, Father, but Arturo says there is
more news of Juana, and Tia –‗ She broke off, blushing. ‗Senor de
Nueva, I did not know it was you.‘

         
‗I thought you had retired, Teresa.‘ Miguel was curt,
‗Tell your aunt that I shall come to her with the news as soon as I have
leisure.‘

         
‗Very well. But, Father, Tia is so nervous since she
came home – I think she may fret herself into a fever until she knows what is
happening.‘

         
In a driven gesture Miguel rubbed one hand over his face. ‗Very
well, you may tell her that Senor de Nueva has come with news which means that
your sister will not marry the Duque de Velenzuela. Perhaps that will calm her;
she has done nothing but plead with me to stop it since she returned, whether
she will be glad of the rest of his news is another matter,‘ he added under his
breath.

         
His second daughter had not heard him; she was smiling
shyly at Jaime and said softly, ‗We could hardly believe that you had
returned so soon, senor. You must be tired after your journey.‘

         
‗A little.‘

         
‗Go along to your aunt, Teresa, and be sure she does
not fret.‘ Miguel dipped his pen in the ink, his attention already withdrawn
from her. ‗If Senor de Nueva is not too weary when we have done here, I
shall send him to you afterwards. I know he will tell you everything that you
should know.‘

         
And, it was tacitly instructed, nothing that she should
not.

         
Tired as he was, Jaime forced himself to his feet to bow Teresa
de Arrelanos out of the room, finding a slight, unexpected balm for his
self-esteem in the warmth of her smile.

         
CHAPTER 11

         
The sounds of revelry were audible when the riders were
still far distant from the town, and Juana drew rein instinctively. Her gaze
swept the valley below them, seeing houses as small as toys, white and pale
gold marked out by clustered trees, and cradled by the long ridges of the hills
around it. She turned to Tristan to see him sitting motionless astride the bay,
an odd, wry look hardening his scarred mouth.

         
'It is the fiesta — I had forgotten. The townsfolk of
Villenos rejoice in a minor saint whose bones they honour by drinking
themselves unconscious for two weeks in every year; I should have remembered
it, but I had greater things on my mind.' He turned his head suddenly, and the
emerald glint in his eyes held hers. 'It seems we are not to have the quiet
refuge I looked for, but at least our arrival will not be noticed in such a
bruit as this.'

         
'Even if it is, there is no law that can take a wife from
her husband.' Her voice sounded bitter. Was that not why you married me?'

         
'In some measure,' he agreed coolly, 'though a determined
pursuer might choose to divorce us by death, even if that wooer of yours did
not dare sufficiently.'

         
Juana turned away her head. That morning she had dressed
her hair as well as she could, but now the wind had teased free black tendrils
that curled rebelliously round her heart-shaped face; the haughty tilt of her
chin was at variance with the bruised-looking shadows under her eyes and the
betraying vulnerability of her mouth. 'I have seen enough of death of late,'
she said in a tight voice.

         
For a brief space Tristan waited as if he expected her to
say something more, and then when she did not speak he turned the bay horse
down the track without a word.

         
Juana said suddenly, as she urged the Arab into motion,
'Why must we go south? Zuccaro is on the way to the Portuguese border.'

         
He glanced over his shoulder at her, expressionless. 'Spain
is at war with Portugal, had you forgotten? We would be venturing through a
fight where either side might kill us if the tale of our flight overtook us.
And by the same token I do not care to venture through France, for although
Louis is declared your King's friend I have heard that he does not love
Spaniards in his country.'

         
Your
King.
 
Juana flinched inwardly at the contempt in the
level words.

         
'At the coast we can find a ship and leave by sea. It has
the advantage of being further from Madrid, in case Torres should change his
mind and have me hunted down for stealing you — it will not be for more than
that until they find Bartolome, and with luck we will be gone before they do,'
he added sardonically.

         
Juana gave a smothered exclamation and set spurs to her
horse. All of a sudden she wanted to outrun memory, to lose the sound of the
cynical voice conjuring up images of death that she could not bear. Briefly,
she wondered whether he spoke so to enjoy the sight of her pain at the memory
or to remind her of the source of his power.

         
The hood of her cloak slipped back as the horse gathered
speed and she leaned low over the silky back, exulting suddenly in the swift,
rhythmic surge of the animal's muscles. The wind was whipping her hair into
wild tangles, and she felt a sudden freedom, an exhilaration, that startled her
with its intensity. Now, at last, she had chosen her own path and there was no
going back. With every yard she was leaving behind her old life; now she had to
make what she could of
the
new.

         
The two horses thundered neck-and-neck down the broad track
into the valley, but it was Tristan who drew rein first.

         
'Take care, or you will ride down some of these drunkards!'
He nodded at a cluster of singing, reeling figures who had stumbled into the
road ahead of them.

         
'That would hardly endear you to the sons of Villenos, and
I am of no mind to disburse your dowry in bribes to free you from prison.'

         
It was lightly, mockingly said, but Juana felt her gaiety
die as quickly as it had been born. She drew rein clumsily, sawing at her
horse's mouth so that the animal slewed sideways and then leaning forward to
pat its neck consolingly, her loosened hair falling forward to hide her face.
She had forgotten her dowry, she thought bitterly; but for that Tristan would
have been content to degrade her and leave her, another episode in his long
vengeance against women for what had been done to him.

         
His long, tapering hand closed on her horse's bridle, and
she heard him say crisply, 'Stay close to me. I do not trust this crowd.'

         
Once the order would have made her protest violently, but
now she only nodded and sat with the reins loose in her hands, letting him
guide her where he chose.

         
The houses were crowding closer as they rode on, and the
sounds of celebration seemed to be quietening as the sun dropped lower in the
sky. The bay horse's tail lashed furiously at the gnats that hovered to plague
it, and Juana's own horse had slowed to a jarring, fidgeting motion. The topers
they saw now lay sprawled in patches of shadow beneath the houses' eaves,
watching incuriously as they rode by; after a hard day's drinking, few were
inclined to do anything but sit in the shade until they fell asleep. The
beginning of a headache was nagging at Juana, and she was making an attempt to
draw her hood back over her head when Tristan brought the bay to a standstill
and halted her gelding's moody shuffle.

         
'We have arrived.'

         
There was a note of grimness in his unrevealing voice, but
she did not heed it; her eyes were full of sun-dazzle, and for that moment she
was only aware that her horse had stopped. Then Tristan's fingers dug hard into
her waist, lifting her down, and she hung limply between his hands like a
puppet. If he had not held her upright as he set her on her feet, she would
have sunk to the floor in an exhausted, boneless heap. As she swayed towards
him, unaware of her own movement, a shout came from somewhere near and he
released her with a quick intake of breath.

         
'Luis— it is good to see you again.' There was no emotion
in the level voice, but the green eyes were smiling.

         
The swarthy grey-haired man in the leather apron grinned,
ignoring the cutting edge to the mercenary's voice, and wrung Tristan's hand
between both his.

         
'What, Felipe! You are come after all, eh? You have got
leave of that jumped-up son of a pig to come and visit us — and you have
brought —' He broke off as his gaze fell on Juana, and his expression changed
ludicrously, his jaw dropping. 'Your pardon, my lady, I meant no disrespect!
But when my friend comes here at fiesta time, it is natural to think. . . .
What are you about, Felipe, to bring a grand lady to my poor house?'

         
Tristán's lips curved slightly. 'Be calm, Luis. This is
Juana, my wife.'

         
Luis swallowed several times before he could speak, his
small dark eyes glazed with shock. 'Your
wife?
 
But how? When? Why was I not told?'

         
'You know almost before any other, save the priest— we were
married only yesterday, without her family's knowledge.' Tristan drew Juana
back against him, his chin resting on her hair with a gesture that looked like
tenderness. 'We cannot have it talked of, though, by your leave — nor the fact
that we are here.'

         
Luis regained control of his jaw and his voice with an
evident effort. 'An elopement, then?' he asked matter-of-factly.

         
Tristan nodded silently, and Juana felt the warning
pressure of his hands on her arms which urged her to respond. She forced a
smile at the goggling Luis and saw him break into a delighted beam.

         
'By Saint Isidore himself, I never thought to see it!
Felipe in love at last, after so many years! All that time regretting that
heartless bitch who spoiled your face — all along Elisabeta said that you were
talking nonsense when you said you would never keep company with another woman
except for—'