Sins of the Father: MANTEQUERO BOOK 3 (5 page)

“He said. . .” Rafa made another grab for his glass and drained it. His son silently refilled it. “He said, ‘I have never hurt you or yours, Rafa.’ He knew my name! He begged me to spare him, but I kept on hammering until the black blood came gushing out and he laid still. I went to get my scythe, but when I looked back, his eyes were open again, pleading with me. I couldn’t do it, Alison.”

“So what did you do?” Alison asked quietly.

“I left him there, God forgive me. I left him there and ran all the way home. I told myself I would return. That I would go back the next day and cut off his head. But I couldn’t do it. I returned before dawn and I covered him with stones. He was still just lying there and he did not move. I told myself he was truly dead. That I did not need to do more. And I covered him so the vultures would not tear his face. And then I went home and I have never been there since.”

“Rafa, can you remember where it is? Can you take us there?”

Alison’s face was very close to Rafa’s, her eyes searching his.

He moaned and drank some more.

Johan got up from his seat and came over to join them. “Come on Rafa,” he said. “If you drink any more you won’t be able to take anyone anywhere. Come on, lad.” He clapped Rafa on the shoulder and the old man looked up in surprise.

“We will all go together.  You and me, and the women and Rupert.”

“And I.” Rafa’s son spoke up. “If my father goes into danger, so do I.”

“And I.” The other boy stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother.

There was a general roar of approval from the clientele, all of whom were shouting their intention to come along.

“Oh bloody hell,” said Johan. “It’s going to be a bloody circus like the last time.”

V

For the next hour or so the bar was filled with bustle as villagers rushed in and out, fetching ancient weapons, calling for friends, shouting instructions. Heather, Alison and Johan were sitting in intense conversation, heads close together. Patsy had gone off to the bar and was chatting to Rafa’s daughter, accompanied by much hand-waving and laughter. Samantha sat watching all this through half-closed eyes. The long journey, begun in the early hours, followed by the heavy lunch, and then the adrenaline reaction after the frightening encounter with Rafa, had made her sleepy.

Nobody noticed that Rupert had disappeared.

****

Come to me. Come to me, my son. Ignacio, come to me.
The voice was melodious, alluring.

Rupert was struggling up the mountain in a kind of trance, following goat paths and streams. He had to reach his father. The ground was covered with a riot of wild flowers which hid treacherous pot-holes, stinging plants and scratchy twigs. He had pulled his socks up over his trouser-bottoms and carried on regardless, following the call. He was near now. He could tell.

****

It was beginning to get dark by the time the villagers declared themselves ready. They were fairly bristling with weapons – sticks, knives and farm implements; along with the occasional ancient gun. “They hide them in the walls,” Johan said, leaning forward and startling Samantha into consciousness. She looked around her in a sudden panic. “Where’s Rupert?” she demanded
.

“Oh bloody hell,” said Johan.

Rafa, now completely recovered from his earlier fright, had climbed upon the bar and adopted a dramatic pose, clearly as a prelude to a speech.

“No time,” Johan called. “The boy has disappeared. We must find him before he finds his father.”

The villagers looked at each other in consternation, then all rushed out of the bar at once, causing a jam as they all tried to get through the narrow doorway at the same time.

By the time Johan and the women finally got out, the first villagers were well on their way, brandishing their weapons and singing as they went. “Do they know where they’re going?” Johan asked. “No, but I do,” Rafa said and, taking a different and more difficult path, he led the way.

****

The grave was marked with a stone cairn, exactly like many others Rupert had passed, left by shepherds and hikers to mark the way. This was different in that it was away from the main paths, hidden under an overhang on the cliff face. Within the overhang was a small cave and he couldn’t resist a quick peep inside even though his father was calling him more urgently now.
Quick, boy. Let me out. There is not much time. They are on their way.
It had been lived in once, a long time ago. There were blankets and a makeshift fireplace. A tiny trickle of water ran down the wall in one corner and collected in an earthenware bowl, overflowing now and running down a crack to the cave entrance. There were other things. A few tools and implements, a large hat, a leather sack, black with age. He picked it up and sniffed it. It reminded him of something. Something delicious. Absent-mindedly he slung it over his shoulder and got on with the task of removing the stones.

Further down the mountain Johan’s little band was beginning to fret as the sun went down. They had not thought to provide themselves with torches, since they had set off for the village in the middle of the day. Then Rafa pulled out a heavy duty iron lantern and winked at them.
Perfect,
Johan thought.
It doubles as a very effective weapon.

Rafa’s boys stood close behind their father, grinning, each holding a similar lantern and clutching wicked-looking knives. Rafa himself had a hammer and an enormous axe sticking through his belt. Johan shuddered when he realised what they were for.

“Come on,” said Rafa, “Not far now.”

The mountain dropped down below them and far away Johan could see the lights of the little village coming on one by one as the sun disappeared behind the peaks. There was no sign of the other villagers.

****

He cast the last stone aside and looked down upon the face of his father. It was exactly the same as in the dream – the face he saw himself in the mirror every morning, but subtly changed – more mature, more beautiful.

As he looked the eyes snapped open and he smiled. “Ignacio,” he said. “You have come at last. I have waited many years to see your face. Quickly now. You must set me free.”

Rupert looked down at the vicious
-looking spike sticking out of his father’s chest and felt sick. He grabbed it and pulled, but nothing happened. He stood astride the grave, legs apart, wiped his hands on his trousers and gripped it again. Even straining with all his might he couldn’t move it. He cast around, looking for something to give him leverage. There was a large rock nearby with a concave edge. He set it against the stake and pushed. It shifted very slightly. “Sorry father,” he said as he saw his father’s grimace of pain. “Never mind, boy. Keep going. They are nearly here.”
Rupert thought he heard a rustling in the grass just below and redoubled his efforts.

On the next push the stake slid sideways, making a nasty, sucking noise. Ignacio screamed. Rupert stopped, horrified. “Go on, go on,” said his father.

He grasped the stake and this time it pulled clear. Thick pools of black blood seeped out of the wound it left behind. Rupert burst into tears and bent down over his father.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It is all right. It is good. I am free. See!” And Ignacio leapt to his feet, flinging his arms wide and turning his face to face the sunset. The red light reflected in his eyes, giving him a demonic look, and suddenly Rupert felt a terrible chill. What had he done? This was the man who had nearly killed his mother. Who
had
killed God knows how many others, and he had just released him.

“Rupert!”

It was his mother’s voice. He saw her silhouette as she topped the nearest ridge. “Oh my God, what have you done?”

Ignacio began to laugh. It was a rich, deep laugh and it echoed around the nearby peaks. “So, you return to me, my love? Did you hunger for my kisses? And what is this?” Samantha had followed Heather and, ignoring Ignacio completely, she ran to Rupert, who caught her and held her to him.

“What a beautiful creature. How thoughtful of you, my son, to bring her for me. I have gone hungry for so long.”

“No!” Rupert bared his teeth. “She is not for you. She is mine.”

“Come, my boy. Would you refuse your father his first meal after all these years?” Rupert thrust Samantha behind him and glared at his father.

Ignacio threw back his head and laughed again. “Do you think you can beat me, boy? You are a mere stripling. I could tear your head off with one blow.” Behind Rupert, Samantha whimpered. Heather ran forward and threw herself on Ignacio’s back. He shook her off as if she were a troublesome fly.

Alison had been running forward but now stopped dead in her tracks and did a strange little dithering dance, hopping from one foot to another. Johan came up behind her and grabbed her round the waist to restrain her.

The Mantequero began to march towards Rupert and Samantha. “Now!!”

His cry was cut off sharp as Rafa’s knife sliced into his back, followed by two smaller knives. All three quivered as the Mantequero fell forward.

Quick as a flash. The big man threw himself down to his knees and beside Ignacio and rolled the Mantequero onto his back. He screamed as the blades were driven deeper into his flesh, the point of Rafa’s larger knife beginning to protrude through his chest. Rafa shifted his weight to the Mantequero’s shoulders as he began to squirm. “Quick, boys,” he cried. “Hold him down.”

Heather backed away, her hand to her mouth, her eyes staring in horror.

“Bring the stake,” Rafa said, pointing to the bloody spike lying beside the grave.

It was not Heather, but Rupert who obeyed his command. The Mantequero was thrashing wildly but Rafa and his sons held him.

“Here.” Rafa took the hammer from his belt and passed it to Rupert. “You must do it. It must be done by one who loves him.”

“But I don’t. . .” Rupert began, but as he looked at the man lying helpless beneath the three men he realised he
did
love him. With a dreadful cry he placed the stake back where it had been before and struck the first blow. Ignacio screamed. “No, no, my son. You must not. I cannot die. I shall go on living forever in torment. You cannot condemn me to this.”

Rupert looked at Rafa, who nodded. Then he lifted the hammer again. . . and again.

When it was over he collapsed, sobbing, beside the body. It had stopped. His father’s voice had stilled at last.

Rafa stood up. “You have done well, boy,” he said. “Go now. I wi
ll do what must be done.”  He took the axe from his belt. “And I will do it properly this time,” he whispered between his teeth.

Rupert turned away and buried his head in the curve of Samantha’s neck. It stopped his eyes seeing but it did not prevent him hearing the dreadful thud as the axe struck through his father’s neck to the earth below.

He turned in time to see Rafa hold up the head by the hair, swing his arm in a wide arc and throw it far out across the barranco. Samantha watched in silent fascination as it flew through the air, small drops of blood scattering as it went.

Then she turned back to Rupert.

“It’s over,” she said.

He gave her a sickly smile but stepped back from her.

“What – what is it?” she said.

He stood, trembling in the cold mountain air, his arms spread wide in a gesture of helplessness. “I have killed my father,” he said. “I am cursed.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Samantha said, taking a step forward and closing the gap. “He was already dead. You set him free.”

Then, as Rupert continued to stare at her with haunted eyes, she took him in her arms.

“I love you,” she said, and reached up to his face to kiss him.

She smelt delicious. He could almost taste the fat beneath her skin and for a moment, just for a moment, he thought.
Maybe it would be all right if I gave her a special kiss. Just one. Just a little taste.
But he dismissed the thought and had to deal with other things as his mother joined in the hug, elbowing Samantha to one side and clutching him so tight he could hardly breathe.

“We will return tomorrow,” Rafa said, “and give him a proper burial. But now we must go back. It is not safe to be out on the mountain in the dark.”

He assigned the young Rafa to lead the way, put his younger son in the middle of the little band and
he himself took up a position at the rear. “Everyone hold hands,” he commanded. “It is easy to lose oneself in the dark.”

And the ragged little group made its way slowly back down the mountain.

****

Later Samantha could not remember the long walk back. She had a jumbled recollection of stumbling through scratchy plants and stubbing her toes on rocks. She thought that Rupert had more than once taken her by the arm and pulled her upright. But she didn’t think they had talked much. It was hard enough to breathe without trying to talk.

Her first clear memory was of sitting in Rafa’s bar with a blanket around her shoulders, shivering. The young Rafa, apparently entirely unaffected by the excitement and the gruelling walk, came bouncing in, carrying a bottle and proceeded to pour a healthy glass for everyone.
“What is it?” Samantha said, peering suspiciously at the dark liquid.

“It is brandy,” Rafa said. “Drink!”

She glanced at Alison, who gave a little nod.
Well, if Mrs Winton thought it was all right.
“For the shock,” Rafa said.

She took a tentative sip. It tasted horrible, like cough medicine. She found it hard to believe that people drank this for pleasure. But as it went down it seemed to warm her from the inside and the shudders began to die down.

“That was a brave thing you did there, son,” Rafa said, raising his glass in a salute to Rupert.

Rupert gave him a small, tight smile, then raised his glass also and said, “And you.”

“I know,” said Rafa, and drained his glass.

The scene shifted to a bedroom lit only by moonlight. She couldn’t see the figure in the other bed but she knew it was Patsy. Rupert must be in another room – alone. She couldn’t sleep as her mind kept running over the events of the last couple of days.
God knows how Rupert must be feeling after what he’d had to do.
She considered tiptoeing into his room to see if he was all right but she wasn’t brave enough. What if she wandered into the room shared by Mrs Winton and Rupert’s mum?  They would be certain to misinterpret her reasons for wandering about in her nightclothes in the middle of the night. So she tossed and turned until daylight when she thought she heard small noises coming from the kitchen.