I visualized the life which awaited us in Spain.
We should live in Don Felipe’s country estate. He would be in attendance on the King at times and have to pay his visits to the gloomy Escorial and perhaps be sent off on missions to other lands, in which case we should accompany him.
It would be a life not dissimilar to that which I had led at the Hacienda. I should never grow accustomed to Spanish solemnity, for I could never become a part of it; nor did I believe that Felipe wished me to, for he had loved me as I was and perhaps because I was so different from the women of his land.
I must try to forget England. I was married to a Spaniard; my son was half Spanish.
If I could but hear that my mother was safe and well and that she knew that I was, I suppose I could in time become reconciled and I wondered often what had become of John Gregory.
Soon the ship must come and we would leave this house in which I had experienced so many emotions. I would try to start afresh when I left it—as I must.
I talked a great deal to Honey of the future. She had adjusted herself more easily than I. She was less tempestuous—or perhaps she was more successful in disguising her feelings. Just as she had appeared to be completely happy with Edward now she seemed so with Luis.
Her attitude was that we must accept life and do our best to be happy in it.
Our parting would be a bitter blow to us both, but we must accept it. We must think of our reunion which both Felipe and Luis had promised us should come in time.
My fears were almost lulled to rest when on that never-to-be-forgotten night there came the knocking on the door.
The candles had been lighted. We sat in that gracious room—myself and Felipe, Honey and Luis. Honey was playing the lute; and how beautiful she looked with her graceful head bent a little and her eyes downcast so that her thick lashes made a dark shadow against her skin—Honey of the indestructible beauty which no hardship could impair.
She was singing a Spanish song. We did not sing the English ones, only when we were out together in the open where none could hear.
Then we heard the sound from without.
We started up. Felipe came swiftly to my side. He put his arm around me. He wanted me to go up to our bedroom so that he could hide me there.
But already we could hear the voices and knocking on the door in the portico. Someone screamed and then there were the sounds of footsteps.
The door of the salon was flung open. I saw John Gregory and a great joy swept over me.
“He comes from England,” I cried.
And then I saw the man I had pictured so many times, his eyes flashing blue fire and there was mockery and murder in them. Jake Pennlyon had come to the Hacienda.
He was looking at me and he laughed triumphantly when he saw me. “I’ve come for you,” he cried. “Which is the fellow who took my woman?”
He was terrifying, magnificent and invincible. How many times, when I had first been brought to Tenerife, had I imagined his coming just like this.
He had turned to Felipe. Some instinct seemed to tell him that he was the one. Then I saw Felipe throw up his arms and fall to the floor.
“Oh, God,” I cried, for Jake’s sword was dripping with blood. I felt sick with horror. Jake had seized me.
“Did you doubt I’d come?” he cried. “God’s Death, it’s been a long time.”
How difficult it is to remember the details of that bewildering and horrifying night. My thoughts were dominated by one terrible truth. Felipe was dead and Jake had killed him.
When I shut my eyes I can see the salon—the bloodstained tapestry, the bodies of men, bloody and inert lying on the mosaic tiles. Honey’s husband was among them; he lay close to Felipe. I was aware of Jake’s men stripping the walls and I realized they were taking away all objects of value.
As I stood there staring down at the body of Felipe whom I knew now I had deeply loved, I thought of the children and ran out to the stairs which led to the nursery. Jake Pennlyon was beside me. It was so long since I had seen him, I had forgotten the power of the man.
He said: “Where go we then? To our bed? Why, girl, you’ll have to wait for that. We’ve work to do this night. We’ve got what we came for, but there’s no need to go back emptyhanded.”
“There are children,” I said.
“What?”
“My son.”
“Your son?”
“Yours too,” I answered.
I tried to escape from him, but he gripped me firmly. We went up to the stairs. The children were awake. Roberto ran to me and I caught him in my arms.
“Your son … this black brat,” cried Jake Pennlyon.
“It is all right, Roberto,” I soothed. “No harm shall come to you, my son.”
Jake Pennlyon’s blue eyes blazed with fury. “So you were got with child by a poxy Don. I’ll have no Spanish vermin on my ship.”
I held the child firmly in my arms.
Carlos and Jacko had come up. Carlos stared at Jake Pennlyon with frank curiosity.
“And these?”
“Yours,” I said. “Your sons, Jake Pennlyon—one got on a Spanish lady and the other on a serving wench.”
He stared down at the boys. Then he put out a hand and let it rest on the shoulder of Carlos. “God’s Death!” he said. Then he took Carlos’ chin and jerked his face up. Then he did the same to Jacko. They met his gaze fearlessly. Jake Pennlyon burst into great laughter. Carlos, uncertain, laughed too. Jake took a handful of Carlos’s hair and pulled it. There was a certain emotion in his face.
He released Carlos and slapped him on the back. The boy staggered but was looking eager and expectant still. Jacko had stepped a little forward, not wishing to be left out.
“Why,” said Jake, “I’d have known you two anywhere.”
Then he looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “These boys should have been yours and you got with child by a poxy Don!” He looked down at the boys. “Get warm clothes on,” he roared. “Bring what you can—everything you can lay your hands on. You’re going on the finest ship that ever sailed the seas.”
Honey, weeping quietly, had come in for Edwina. She picked her up and held her in her arms.
“Make ready,” growled Jake Pennlyon, “and follow me.”
We went down the stairs; packhorses were waiting for us. They had been taken from Felipe’s stables. Already articles of value were being loaded onto them. It must have been midnight when we started to ride to the coast.
There was a faint moon to show us the way and the going was slow.
Jake Pennlyon rode beside me and I held Roberto on my mule. Jennet was there, her eyes wide with excitement; Manuela kept close to the children, quietly determined to follow them; Honey, widowed twice and in a like manner, her beautiful face now impassive, held Edwina on her mule. Jacko rode with Jennet and Carlos had a mule to himself.
I felt as though I were living in a nightmare. I could not forget Felipe lying in his blood, he who, a short while before, had been alive and so concerned for my safety, and all that had happened in the last hour seemed quite unreal. I was certain I would wake up soon.
There was Jake Pennlyon—I had forgotten how vital a man could be—the murderer of Felipe, whom I had grown to love.
I should never forget Felipe’s gentle courtesy, his deep and abiding kindness to me. And Jake Pennlyon had killed him. How I hated Jake Pennlyon.
And so we came to the coast and there, a mile or so from the land, lay the Rampant Lion.
We rowed out to her; we scrambled aboard.
The spoils which Jake Pennlyon’s men had taken from the Hacienda were stowed away.
It was beginning to be light when the Rampant Lion shipped anchor and we sailed for England.