Juana smiled and her face lit up. “Nor will I ever be, uncle. But where is it written that I must stay married to a monster, a man who beats his wife and tortures innocent people, and a man who murders innocent men and women? I think that is the greater sin. Worse, he may even have created this foul war.”
He had heard the same question from others and sometimes he did doubt the Church’s reasoning. There was nothing he could do about it, however. “Both the laws of the Church and the laws of Spain prohibit divorce. And even if you and Mr. Kendrick were to flee to the United States, you would find that you were still bound by many of those same laws. Divorce in Cuba is impossible and almost so in the U.S.”
Juana stood and brought the bishop some brandy. “Then what about an annulment?”
“On what grounds, and please don’t tell me you’ve never consummated your marriage.”
“For all intents and purposes, we haven’t, and don’t look so shocked, dear uncle. Surely you’ve heard rumors about his strange and exotic preferences. And even if we did consummate our marriage, the last time he took me to his bed and tried was a number of years ago. He has effectively abandoned me.”
The bishop swirled his brandy and took a sip. “This is outstanding brandy. Are you trying to coerce me?”
“Of course,” she smiled warmly.
“Does anyone else know enough about the details of your marriage to be able to testify under oath in a Church court or in a Spanish court?”
Her face fell. “No.”
“And while he may be a murderer and a fool and a deviant to some, he is a hero to others. He was even wounded in battle, was he not?”
Juana laughed hugely, surprising the bishop. “Uncle, he fell off his horse and ruptured himself, which, while painful, is hardly a war wound. Yes, he has been in battle, but did you notice that he always survives unscathed while many of his men are slaughtered? His actions are hardly heroic.”
Campoy smiled. Ruptured? How delicious. “Juana, would you be willing to say that you are frigid and have refused him his rights as a husband?”
Juana thought for only a second. “Of course,” she said. “It would only be part of a lie since he hasn’t asked in so long. If he’d had, I would have rejected him outright, especially after he betrayed me to his mistresses. I only wish that his latest, Helga, was still in Havana. We had come to an accommodation and I believe she would have supported me.”
Campoy gestured and received some more brandy. “I don’t know how you would explain away your sexual frolics in the home of Mercedes de la Pena or here in the estate of Mr. Dunfield. These are hardly the actions of a frigid woman.”
“Are you saying I can’t be selectively frigid? I think you would find many women are that way. You’d know that if you’d been listening more closely during confessions instead of dozing off.”
Campoy laughed and stood. It was time to go. “I will think on what you are saying. I cannot hear your confession and give you absolution, but I can give you and your barbarian Protestant lover my personal prayers and blessings and I do. In the meantime, I will try to help you find a way out of your dilemma. But first, I have a different task. There is a matter of church and state I must discuss with our beloved Governor-General. This war is bringing out the worst in people and now I am finding that there are a few more bad priests than I ever thought. Almost all of my clergy are good people and it is deeply disturbing when I find that a handful have betrayed the laws of God and man.”
“Well then, uncle, may I pray that my husband dies in battle? Heroically, of course.”
Campoy winced. “That thought is most un-Christian and un-Catholic. And besides, be careful what you wish for, it might come true.” Although, he thought, it would be a fitting end to their problems, even ones she didn’t know existed.
Juana kissed him on the cheek and led him to the door. She looked around the outside and determined that Cisneros’ guards were in place and that there was no danger to her or to the bishop. She didn’t think that Salazar would strike at a man of god like her uncle, but who knew what he was capable of.
* * *
Ryder was jarred awake by the sound of gunfire, punctuated by screams and yells. Bugles and drums added to the din as the alarm was sounded. But why, he wondered as he pulled on his pants. According to the clock on his stand, it was three in the morning.
Haney burst in. “It’s a raid, general. The goddamn Spanish are trying to kill our guns. They’ve hit General Gibbon’s division with a large force and they seem to be causing a lot of damage.”
Ryder thought quickly. Gibbons’ division was to his brigade’s right as he faced the Spanish lines and, he thought with sudden horror, the hospital where Sarah worked was directly behind it.
All over the area, his men were rousing. He quickly ordered one of his three regiments to maintain their forward positions facing the Spanish and ordered the other two to prepare for a flanking attack against the Spaniards. None of this would occur instantly. The men, dragged from their sleep, were forming up as quickly as they could, but they would have to advance as entire major units and not as small groups that would be cut to pieces by the Spanish.
If Haney was right, and he usually was, this was only a raid which meant that the attackers would withdraw fairly soon. It could not be a major attack since the observers in the balloons would have caught the movement of large numbers of enemy troops towards the area. This meant that the Spanish would retreat fairly soon but after they had spiked cannon, destroyed ammunition and other supplies, and caused as much mischief as they could.
After what seemed an eternity, his two remaining regiments moved towards the fight. They kept their order and moved slowly so as to avoid shooting fellow American soldiers. After only a couple of hundred yards, they saw numbers of Spaniards pulling back and firing at them and at other advancing Americans. Ryder’s soldiers returned fire. Because of the darkness, almost all shooting was wild and inaccurate. Even when a target appeared, the flash of gunfire and smoke temporarily blinded the shooters.
Fires from burning supplies and small explosions punctuated the night, further destroying soldiers’ vision. Ryder caught up with an outraged Gibbon. “Somebody’s going to be crucified for letting them get on top of us like this,” he raged. Ryder had the sneaking thought that it might have been Gibbon’s men who were responsible, but prudently kept quiet.
They soon came upon the first Spanish dead. Someone had gotten smart, Ryder thought. The soldiers weren’t dressed in their white uniforms. Instead, they were wearing what looked like dark blue. Their faces had been smeared with dirt to make them even more difficult to spot. Still, wide awake sentries should have caught them before they got as far as they did.
Ryder stayed close to General Gibbon and heard that a number of cannon had been spiked. While Gibbon swore colorfully, another messenger said that the Spanish had done a poor job of disabling the guns and that they all would be back in working order in a few hours.
“Thank heaven for small favors,” Gibbon snarled. “It was just a raid and they botched it. This’ll be embarrassing, but I’ll get over it. Hell, I didn’t have that much of a career left anyhow.”
Ryder tried to force another concern out of his mind. Sarah and the hospital were fairly close and looked like they were directly in the path of the Spanish assault. Some tents were burning, but he couldn’t tell what they had been. He looked for Haney and couldn’t find him. Good. The man had probably slipped away to find out what had happened to Ruta and, at the same time, Sarah.
* * *
Sarah and several others, including Ruta, had been sleeping soundly when the shooting started. Their first reaction was the same as everyone’s-shock that the gunfire was so close, and then horror that it was getting closer. Something was clearly, horribly, wrong.