Yet here I had a husband who loved me and a sweet son.
In January the Cavalcade of the Three Wise Men took place and we took the children into La Laguna to watch it. What excitement there was and I listened with delight to the chattering children.
Yes, there was so much that I enjoyed.
Time slipped away and it was Holy Week and this was a time of great celebration. There were more processions in the town and when I saw the white robed figures coming from the Cathedral I was reminded so poignantly of the day I had sat in the plaza and looked on the misery of men, I felt suddenly nauseated; and a poignant longing for home swept over me.
I had talked of my sudden desire for home to Honey and she admitted that she felt this too. She was adored by Don Luis; she had her little daughter even as I had my son; but our home was something we should never forget; and I believe that at the very heart of it was my mother—for Honey as well as for me.
We had ridden into La Laguna on our mules to see the Holy Week procession and left the children at home because we feared they might be hurt in the crowds. Honey and I stood side by side. There were two grooms with us; we were never allowed to go far without protection. And as we stood on the edge of the crowd I felt someone press against me.
I turned sharply and looked into a pair of fanatical eyes which looked straight into mine.
“Pilar,” I said.
“Witch,” she hissed. “Heretic witch.”
I started to tremble. Crowds in this plaza brought with them such hideous memories.
I said to Felipe: “I saw the woman Pilar in the town. She hates me. I could see by the way she looked at me.”
“She was devoted to her charge. She had been with her since her birth.”
“I think she believes that I am responsible for her death.”
“She is distraught. She will grow away from her grief.”
“I have rarely seen such hatred in any eyes as was in hers when she looked at me. She called me a witch … a heretic witch.”
I was unprepared for the change in Felipe’s expression. Fear was clearly to be seen as his lips formed the word “heretic.” Then suddenly that control which was so much a part of his character seemed to desert him. He took me into his arms and held me tightly against him.
“Catalina,” he said, “we are going to Madrid. We must not stay here.”
A terrible fear had begun to overshadow me. When darkness fell I would often fancy I was being watched. I could not specifically say how. It was just that I would hear footsteps which seemed to follow me; or the quiet shutting of a door when I was in a room, so that it seemed that someone had opened it to watch me and then quietly shut it and gone away. On one or two occasions I fancied someone had been in my room. Some familiar object had been moved from its place and I was sure I had not done this.
I admonished myself. I was allowing my imagination to take possession of my good sense. Since Isabella’s death and my marriage—the one a natural sequence of the other—the tension had been gradually rising. I could not forget Pilar’s face when she looked at me and whispered those words: “Witch. Heretic witch” and in my mind had conjured up such horror as I dared not brood on.
It came into my mind that there was hatred around me. Some evil force was trying to destroy me. I knew this was so when I found the image in my drawer.
I had opened it unsuspectingly and there looking up at me was the figure. It was made of wax and represented a beautiful girl with black hair piled high and in that hair was a miniature comb. Her gown was of velvet and the resemblance struck me immediately. Isabella! It could not be meant to resemble anyone else.
I picked it up. What horror possessed me then, for protruding from her gown, at that spot beneath which her heart would have been, was a pin.
Someone had put the thing in my drawer. Who? Someone had made that thing in the image of Isabella. Someone had stuck a pin through the heart and put it in my drawer!
I stood there with it in my hand.
The door had opened. I looked up startled and saw a dark reflection in the mirror.
To my relief I realized that it was only Manuela.
I held the figure crushed in my hand and turned to her. I wondered whether she noticed how shaken I was.
“The children are ready to say good night,” she said.
“I’ll come, Manuela.”
She disappeared and I stood staring at the thing in my hand; then I thrust it to the back of the drawer and went to the nursery.
I could not listen to what the children were saying. I could only think of that horrible thing and its significance.
Who had put it there? Someone who wished me ill. Someone who was accusing me of bringing about Isabella’s death. I must destroy it with all speed. While it was there I was unsafe.
As soon as I had tucked the children in and kissed them good night I went back to my room.
I opened my drawer. The figure had disappeared.
I told Felipe what I had found and I was immediately aware of the terrible fear this aroused in him.
“And it was gone?” he cried. “You should never have put it back in the drawer. You should have destroyed it immediately.”
“It means that someone believes I killed Isabella.”
“It means,” he said, “that someone is trying to prove that you are a witch.”
I did not have to ask him what that meant.
“I was accused of that on the ship,” I said. I shivered. “I came near to a horrible death.”
“Some of the sailors must have talked. We must get away from here quickly.”
He speeded up preparations for our departure.
Fear had certainly entered the Hacienda. The great shadow of the Inquisition hung over us. Sometimes I would awaken shouting, having dreamed I was in that square. I was looking on from the box … looking on at myself in the hideous sanbenito. I could hear the crackle of flames at my feet. I would awake crying out from my dream and Felipe would take me in his arms and comfort me.
“Soon,” he said, “we shall be safe in Madrid.”
“Felipe,” I asked, “what if they should come and take me … how would they come?”
He answered: “They come often at night. There would be the knock on the door. We should hear the words: ‘Open in the name of the Holy Office.’ Those are the words none dare disobey.”
“And they would take me away then, Felipe. They would question me. I should answer their questions. What have I to fear?”
“All have something to fear when they fall into the hands of the Inquisition.”
“The innocent…”
“Even the innocent.”
“If they believe you to be a witch they would take you,” he said. “If they should come by night I shall hide you. We must pretend that you have disappeared, that you are indeed a witch and you have invoked the Devil to aid you. There is a secret door in the bedchamber.” He showed it to me. “You will hide in here until such time as I can save you.”
“Felipe, would Pilar inform against me?”
“It may well be,” he answered. “And if she does they will come for you.”
“Do you believe she has?”
“I cannot say. People are wary of going to the Holy Office even to lay information against others, for it has happened that in so doing they have become involved themselves. We will pray that Pilar has not said to others what she has said to you.”