“You forget, Don Luis,” I said, “that you speak of our Queen.”

“A thousand pardons. I thought but to give you the truth.”

“Of course we want the truth,” I replied. “But if our Queen refuses to appoint an heir it is because she knows that many years are left to her and she will beget her own.”

Don Luis was too polite to debate the point.

Honey laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t let Catalina”—they had all begun to call me Catalina—“stop your telling us the news. We long to hear it.”

“I’ll tell you something else,” said Luis. “One of your Captains, John Hawkins, has started dealing in slaves.”

“Dealing in slaves!” I cried.

“Indeed he has. He has fitted three ships and taken them to the Guinea Coast. There he captures Negroes and takes them to that part of the world where he thinks to get the highest price for them.”

“You mean he just picks people as though they were … plants and takes them away from their families. It’s monstrous.”

Felipe was regarding me steadily.

I saw myself … a slave. I saw my little Roberto snatched from me … perhaps taken from me to be a slave himself or left behind while I was carried away in chains. I have always, I think, more than most people, put myself in the places of others; it was one of the reasons I waxed vehement when I thought justice had failed to be done.

Felipe said: “Your English Captain Hawkins has done this. You should not hanker for that island of yours. Is it not true, Luis, that some of the ships used by Hawkins belonged to the Queen of England? And this, Catalina, sets her seal of approval on this horrible trade.”

Luis said: “You should be thankful that you are here…” And he smiled at us both. “Perhaps we all have reasons to be thankful.” He threw a soulful look in Honey’s direction. “For life goes on uncertainly in your island. Each day the English become a greater menace to us on the high seas. We are a great and powerful nation. We intend to colonize the whole world. And one day we shall take over your island too. You will become a vassal of Spain.”

“You do not know us,” I said fiercely. And I thought of Jake Pennlyon then. I would stake all I had on him when set against these courtly gentlemen. Even hating him as I did, I knew that his courage was supreme and his love of his country as natural to him as drawing breath.

“We begin to,” said Luis, smiling gently. “A formidable enemy. Our most formidable! There should be peace between us. We should unite without fighting.”

“That could never be,” I said.

“I think so too,” put in Felipe gently, “but it is a pity.”

“Your country is losing her possessions on the continent of Europe,” went on Luis. “Warwick has surrendered Le Havre to the French. The English will never regain a foothold in France and the only spoils of war which Warwick has brought back to England from France are the plagues. Twenty thousand persons have been carried off by one in and around the city of London.”

I turned pale thinking of my mother and the old days when the sweating sickness had visited the Capital.

It was good to hear news of England though, even if it was not good news. I believed that it was colored to be advantageous to Spain and I could understand that; but how strange it was that the men who loved us (for Luis clearly was in love with Honey) should have been so gratified by the misfortunes which befell those who were dear to us.

Honey explained to me: “I have been without a husband so long, Catalina. I am young.”

“You are older than I.”

“But young. Admit it, Catalina. And I am fond of Luis.”

“You are not in love with him.”

“I can settle for him.”

“And Edward?”

“Edward is dead. You know, don’t you, that we are never going to leave this place. We shall spend the rest of our time here. Even if Don Felipe were willing to let us go, how could we? Could we sail to England in a Spanish galleon and be rowed ashore! ‘Here are your women now returned to you!’ Imagine that. They would have forgotten us at home. What should become of us?”

“You think Mother would ever forget us? Grandmother too. I long to be home with them.”

“I want that too, but it is not to be. We know it is not to be. That is clear. Don Felipe loves you and he loves Roberto. He will never let you go. Be reasonable. He is a good man.”

“A man who is so determined on revenge that he forces a woman to share his bed—not out of lust for her but for revenge.”

“That is over.”

“Over! For you perhaps. You were not violated.”

“And that violation gave you Roberto, whom you love dearly. Try to look at life reasonably, sister. Sometimes good comes from evil. You were brought here against your will and the result is the son whom you love so deeply. The man who sought revenge has found love. Be reasonable. Life does not give you exactly what you most want, but it serves a very palatable dish. Be wise, Catalina, don’t turn away from it.”

“And become his mistress?”

“You would have all the honors of a wife.”

I said coldly: “Talk of yourself, Honey, but leave me out of it.”

“Well,” she said, “I am going to marry Luis.”

“A foreigner, and enemy of our country.”

“What are countries to women who love? I am a woman. I have been long without a husband. I need a husband and Luis is good. He will be a father to Edwina.”

I was silent, and she went on gently: “Perhaps you will go away from here after a while but, I shall stay, for Luis will be Governor in due course.”

“Then we shall say good-bye.”

“Only au revoir. Because, Catalina, when our spell is done, and it will not be more than eight years, we shall come to Madrid and there we shall see you in your beautiful home with Roberto and Carlos playing there with their brothers and sisters. Just think of it.”

“A pretty picture,” I said. “Marry your Luis if you so need to marry. Have your children. What matters it, one man is as good as another to some.”

“Why do you speak thus? Ah, I know. It is because my way is plain. Yours is not. You are not indifferent to Felipe. You change when he is in the house. I am sorry Catalina that Isabella stands in your way.”

“Isabella stands in your way.” The phrase haunted me. I dreamed of Felipe often. And he was there at the side of my bed and Isabella was beside him—a pale, shadowy child with a doll in her arms.

Honey and Luis were married in the Cathedral. She was the most beautiful bride I had ever seen and there was about her that serene happiness which had been there before Edwina’s birth.

Honey had always wanted to be loved, had blossomed with love; and there was no doubt that Luis adored her.

The wedding was celebrated at the Hacienda and there was feasting and the people of the surrounding villages were invited to come and dance which they did in the gardens. It was a wonderful sight with the girls and young men in the traditional costumes dancing the Andalusian dances which had been brought from the mainland. They danced and sang to the tunes played on the timple and I heard for the first time the Isa and the Folias.

Songs were sung praising the newly married couple and marriage in general, and afterward the bride and groom returned to the bedchamber and there was none of that ribaldry which would have accompanied such a ceremony at home.

That night I lay sleepless for a long time and I thought: We are farther from home than ever. Honey has accepted her fate and if we could go home now she would not leave her husband. Honey has become one of them. And how could I go and leave Honey here?

I thought: If my mother knew where I was; if I might see her now and then, I could do worse than marry Felipe. He would be a good and devoted husband; Roberto loved his father—how could I separate them?

I was becoming more and more convinced that my life lay here.


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