We did not speak; our tension was too great. I had gathered this much: that I had been the object of the abducting. Jennet had become the mistress of one of the sailors and because he was a strong man and carried a knife she had had but one master; Honey would have been ravished but for the Agnus Dei at her neck and perhaps that aura of divinity or maybe her own witchcraft; but I had been guarded; the man who had dared touch me had suffered violent lashing because of it. So it was clear that the purpose of this mission concerned me.

The Captain returned. He spoke to Honey: “Have no fear. You will be looked after until such time as the child is born.” His voice was tender; there was a sadness about him. They smiled at each other. I knew there was a bond of love between them, a love that would never be fulfilled but which had touched their lives briefly and had meant something to them.

“Jennet shall be your maid while you need her,” he said. “Remain here.” Then to me: “Come.”

I followed him up a staircase. There was a strange brooding silence about this house. It was dark everywhere; it was full of shadows. I knew that something strange and dramatic was about to happen to me.

I followed the Captain along a corridor. The tinted windows threw a faint yellowish color into the gloom and I had the impression that the owner of this house wanted to shut out the light because he could not bear it to show what went on within these walls.

I had a desire then to turn and run. Where could I run to? How could I leave Honey and Jennet behind? But it was because of me that we had been brought here.

The Captain had paused before a door. He rapped lightly on it, someone spoke from within and we entered.

At first I could see little in that darkened room and then I was aware of the man. This was my first glimpse of Don Felipe Gonzáles. I felt the cold shiver run through my body. Perhaps it was a premonition, perhaps it was that there was something so forbidding, almost awe-inspiring about the man. He was not tall, compared with Jake Pennlyon, for instance, nor was he small for a Spaniard. He was dressed in a black doublet which was trimmed with fine white lace, his breeches were of padded satin, at his side was a short sword in a velvet scabbard, and never had I been aware of dignity such as he possessed, never had I seen eyes so cold. He would terrify by a look, this Don Felipe Gonzáles. His skin was of olive color; his nose large aquiline, lips thin, a straight line, cruel, ruthless lips.

He said: “So this is the woman, Captain.”

I knew enough Spanish to understand that.

The Captain answered in the affirmative.

He came forward and bowed to me, coldly, yet politely. I acknowledged his greeting.

“Welcome to Tenerife,” he said in English.

Because I was afraid I must answer boldly. “Not well come,” I said, “since I am brought here against my will.”

“I rejoice in your safe arrival,” he replied.

He clapped his hands and a woman came in. She was young—about my own age—considerably smaller, with dark skin and big dark eyes.

He nodded to her and she came toward me.

“Maria will attend you,” he said. “Go with her. We shall meet later.”

It was bewildering. The girl took me along the silent corridor. We came to a big room, dark as the others in spite of the big window. The heavy embroidered hangings shut out the light although they were not fully drawn. In the room was a large four-poster bed, about which hung embroidered curtains; the posts and canopy were finely carved; the coverlet of silk. The chairs were finely carved too, and there was a massive oak chest on one side of the room. On the wooden floor were two large mats of unusual designs. I had never seen such beautiful rugs.

I quickly discovered that Maria knew no English and that I could learn little from her. She drew me through a door which led from the bedroom and there was a toilet room such as I had never seen before. A sunken bath was in the floor and there were Venetian mirrors on the wall.

Maria pointed to the bath and to me; she pulled at my clothes and I could see that she was suggesting I should take a bath.

I was nothing loath. I felt I needed it; and I had a great desire to be cleansed of the all-pervading odors of the ship.

She disappeared and I unbound my hair and let it fall about me. She came back shortly with cans of water, with which she filled the bath. She pointed to me and I indicated that I wished her to leave me. She did. I locked the door, threw off my clothes and got into the sunken bath. It was a delicious sensation. I lay full length and let my hair fall into the water. Then I washed it and my body too and as I stepped up onto the tiled floor Maria was there holding out towels for me. I could not understand how she had come in, for I had locked the door; she saw my surprise and pointed to the curtains behind her. I realized there was another door behind them which led into the toilet room.

I dried my body and she brought scented oils, with which she massaged me. The scent was pungent, overpoweringly sweet like the flowers I had noticed in the drive.

She wrapped a toweled robe about me and spread my hair around me. She giggled and drew back and, throwing back the curtains, opened the door through which she had come.

The bedroom window opened onto a balcony and she beckoned me. I went out; it was small and there was just room for two or three people. I looked over the wrought-iron balustrade onto a patio in which grew highly colored flowers. There was a seat on the balcony. Maria turned it so that my back was to the sun; I could see the purpose was to dry my hair.

She hunched her shoulders as though amused and disappeared. I sat still shaking out my damp hair, in spite of everything enjoying the luxury of being clean again. It gave me courage. I had ceased to speculate as to my fate, for I was aware that I would know very soon why I had been brought here. I wondered what was happening to Honey and Jennet and whether the Captain had returned to his ship.

The warm sun was pleasant; I felt my spirits rising a little because I could not associate violence with the dignified man whom I had seen so briefly and who I knew was the master of everything here.

Maria came out; she felt my hair; she brought a comb and combed it, holding the strands of hair up to the sun’s warmth. I tried to ask what she knew, but it was impossible.

I was on the balcony for what must have been more than an hour. The sun was lower in the sky. It would be almost sunset. I calculated that it would be about six of the clock.

Maria beckoned me into the bedroom. There was a polished metal mirror and a chair before it. I sat down and she dressed my hair. She piled it high on my head and placed in it a comb very similar to the one I had bought from the peddler; and I felt it was symbolic in a way. That had been at the very beginning. Now we were at the climax.

She took a velvet robe from a cupboard. It was a deep mulberry shade and edged with miniver. There was something regal about it. She put it about me.

I said, “Whose is this, Maria?”

She giggled. She pointed to me.

“But whose before?” I asked. There was a faint perfume about it. The same as that of the oil with which I had been anointed.

She kept on pointing to me and I gave up the interrogation as hopeless.

There was a knock on the door. Maria scuttled to it; there was a hurried exchange of words. Then she came back and beckoned to me.

I followed her out of the bedroom along the dim corridor into a room. It was dark now; the sun had disappeared below the horizon and there was not the twilight we had at home.

Maria pushed me into the room and shut the door. I saw the table laid for a meal. There were flowers on it. Candles flickered in their sconces on the walls.