The Devils of Cardona (3 page)

“Excellency. I trust His Majesty is in good health?”

“Far better health than the enemies of Spain would like him to be.”

“We are all very relieved to hear it.”

Saravia dispatched the majordomo for strawberry water as Mendoza sat down in front of him. “Have you ever been to Aragon, Licenciado?” he asked.

“I haven't had the pleasure, Your Worship.”

“Well, I want you to go there.”

“The king wants you to go there,” added Villareal.

“Whatever pleases His Majesty.”

“There is a village called Belamar de la Sierra in the Pyrenees,” Saravia continued. “It seems that the local priest was murdered there last month in the most barbarous and sacrilegious manner. Slaughtered in his own church and his body laid on the altar. His church desecrated, a statue of Our Lady smashed and prayer books torn up. Vile words were written on the wall in his own blood—in Arabic.”

“Arabic, Your Worship?”

“Belamar is a Morisco village,” Villareal explained. “It's in the demesne of Cardona near the French border. I understand that you are originally from Granada?”

“That's correct, Excellency. My family had a house in the Albaicín.”

“And you also fought in the war.”

“I was a lieutenant of infantry under His Excellency Don Juan of Austria.”

“And fought with great courage and distinction, I hear.”

Like all men of the court, Villareal knew how to flatter, Mendoza thought, and he wondered who had told him this.

“I did what was necessary to serve my king,” he said.

“And His Majesty would like you to serve him once again. Given your background in Granada, you'll be familiar with these New Christians. You'll know how stubborn and ungrateful they can be. Aragon is no exception. The Aragonese Moriscos were baptized in 1525. That's twenty-five years after the Moors of Granada were brought into the Church under their Most Catholic Majesties Fernando and Isabel. Nearly sixty years later, the Inquisition of Aragon complains that they are still living as Moors while pretending to be Christians. Not only are they not fulfilling their religious obligations, but the Holy Office believes that gunpowder and weapons are being smuggled into Cardona from France. There are reports that a Morisco who calls himself the Redeemer is inciting these New Christians to revolt and preaching hatred against our holy faith.”

“Are these rumors or facts?” Mendoza asked.

Villareal shrugged. “A useful distinction that is not always easy to establish in Aragon. But there is no doubt that something unusual is taking place in Cardona.” He reached into a leather file and handed Mendoza a crumpled sheet of paper. Mendoza looked at the scrawled, untidy handwriting and read the message:

Mercader, you dog.

You and your pig Inquisition are not welcome in Cardona. We will burn you as you burned us. We will drive out all the Christians from Aragon. The sultan's flag will fly over Zaragoza and all Spain. Granada will be ours once again.

You will die.

The Redeemer.

•   •   •

“T
HE
WRITER
HAS
SOME
AMBITION
, though his handwriting needs improvement,” Mendoza observed. “And who is Mercader?”

“Inquisitor Mercader of the Inquisition of Aragon,” replied Villareal. “This message was sent to him in Zaragoza in April. Since then both the Holy Office and the secular justices have reported incidents in which crosses and roadside shrines have been desecrated in and around Cardona. Last month a church in the village of Las Palomas was vandalized and the word ‘Redeemer' was written on one of the walls—in Castilian, not Arabic. In these circumstances it is only logical to see the murder of the priest as an escalation and a declaration of intent.”

“Has anyone seen this Redeemer? Is there any indication of who he might be?”

“No to both questions, Licenciado. There have been bandits and smugglers in the Pyrenees for years. Some of them have never been seen except by their victims, and they have never been caught. And the Cardona estates lie close to the French border. A man can walk back and forth across that
frontier without anyone knowing his business. We don't have enough troops or customs officers to patrol such wild mountains, let alone hunt down some Morisco avenger who wants to turn Aragon into Granada.”

“And is there any information to connect this Redeemer to Belamar de la Sierra?”

“The Holy Office is convinced that if such a man exists, he is most likely to come from Belamar,” Villareal replied. “The village is mostly Morisco, and the Inquisition believes that its inhabitants are among the most intransigent and defiant in Cardona. But wherever this man comes from, he must be found—and quickly. Do you know how many Turks and Moors fought with the Moriscos of Granada, Licenciado?”

“The figures were never known, Excellency. Some say twenty-five thousand. Others say more.”

“And they had to cross the sea to get there! Imagine what would happen if the Moriscos rebelled so close to our land border at a time like this, when His Most Catholic Majesty is under attack from so many enemies. In Béarn the Huguenot king Henry still dreams of recovering his family's territories in Navarre. In Flanders the Duke of Parma is at last beginning to turn the war in our favor, but the English Jezebel is promising to assist the rebels. Our spies tell us that the heretic Prince of Orange is even prepared to deal with infidels to attack us in Flanders and seeks to persuade the Grand Turk to take revenge for Lepanto. Our ports are constantly raided by Moors, and we have no doubt that there are many Moriscos who would like to assist them. According to the Holy Office, there are foreign spies all over Aragon: Turkish, Huguenot, even English. This must be stopped. As a veteran of Granada, you know what these Moriscos are capable of, when they receive assistance.”

Mendoza nodded. It seemed impolitic to point out that the Granada War was a direct consequence of the king's official pragmatic of 1567, which ordered the Moriscos of Granada to cease speaking Arabic and abandon all the other Moorish customs that the Crown believed had prevented them
from becoming faithful Christians. That decision had unleashed a cascade of violence that had taken more than two years to suppress.

“Shouldn't the Moriscos be a matter for the Inquisition?” he asked as the majordomo returned with their refreshments.

“That is correct. But there are other matters that fall outside the jurisdiction of the Holy Office. Aragon is my homeland, Don Bernardo, and it grieves me to say that parts of the kingdom are so infested with brigands that you cannot travel on the public roads without an escort, without the risk of being shot or having your throat cut. The infestation is particularly virulent in the mountains and valleys of Cardona. The Puerto de Somport is one of the main routes on the pilgrimage to Santiago, and pilgrims have frequently been robbed on the road to Jaca. Banditry is a problem that is difficult to eliminate, but rebellion is an outrage that cannot be tolerated. Next year the king will visit the Parliament of Aragon for the first time in twenty-two years. In March the infanta Catalina will be married to the Duke of Savoy in Zaragoza. The wedding is a moment of immense happiness for all the king's subjects, and His Majesty's decision to hold it in Zaragoza is a demonstration of his great affection for the Aragonese. In addition this event will be attended by many princes from outside his realms. You will understand that nothing can be allowed to overshadow or detract from this occasion—or diminish the honor and prestige of His Most Catholic Majesty.”

“Who is His Majesty's corregidor in the district?”

“The magistrate in the Jaca district is Pelagio Calvo.”

“Pelagio Calvo from Salamanca?”

“I believe so. You know him?”

“Of course. We were students together. He saved my life at Lepanto. I haven't seen him in thirteen years. I was wounded in the battle and sent to the hospital in Venice. I lost track of him after that. I believe he went on to serve His Majesty in Flanders.”

“He did,” Villareal said. “And he has been the magistrate in Jaca for the
last three years. He has expressed his frustration on numerous occasions at the security situation in the Cardona
señorio
. He wants to go in like the Duke of Alva in Flanders—to hang and flog the district into submission. But Aragon isn't Flanders—yet. It requires a more careful and methodical approach, which we hope you will be able to provide.”

Mendoza knew little of Aragon, but the Duke of Alva's “Council of Blood” needed no explanation. Appointed governor of the Netherlands in 1567, the duke had hanged and executed hundreds of Calvin's followers, and his methods were frequently spoken of with approval by his more hard-line colleagues as a model for dealing with ordinary criminality in Spain itself, despite the fact that the war in Flanders was still going on nearly twenty years after Alva had supposedly subdued it. Mendoza was not entirely surprised to hear that his old friend was advocating similar methods. Calvo, he recalled, had relatives in Brussels, and even as a student he had taken an uncompromising position on Flanders. Mendoza had a distant memory of a tavern argument in which Calvo had argued forcefully against any concessions to heretics in Flanders. Soon after Lepanto, Mendoza had received a letter from Genoa in which Calvo told him that he had acquired a taste for war and had decided to join Alva's Army of Flanders instead of returning to Spain. That was the last he had heard of Calvo, and he had never expected to see him again.

“The Aragonese have no desire to see the king's soldiers deployed anywhere in their territory,” Villareal continued. “You are familiar with the
fueros
, I presume?”

“I'm aware of the royal charters,” Mendoza replied. “But I know nothing of the
fueros
of Aragon.”

“And there is no reason you should. Suffice to say that these charters were granted to the Crown of Aragon by the old kings of Castile, and they have been reaffirmed by their descendants ever since. In 1518 the king's own father was obliged to present himself in Zaragoza, where he promised
to uphold the
fueros
before the lords would accept his kingship. So you see the Aragonese like to run their affairs without interference from the Crown, and they are extremely sensitive when it comes to any perceived violation of these privileges by Castile. The presence of troops would certainly be seen as such a violation, and it would require exceptional circumstances to justify such an intervention. Nor will a Castilian judge be universally popular. Many towns and lordships have their own
fueros
, and some lords believe that they alone have jurisdiction over their estates. These . . . sensibilities need to be taken into account. Nevertheless His Majesty believes that the situation in Belamar can be resolved through a more zealous policing effort, under the direction of a conscientious and energetic official of good standing who knows how to proceed with discretion. Judge Saravia has informed me that you are the best choice.”

“His Worship honors me.”

“He has told me of your success in eliminating the banditry near Jaén last year. Your experience of Granada will be useful in the Morisco lands. You are to go to Belamar and conduct your own investigation into the murder of the priest. You will use the opportunity to investigate the wider situation in the
señorio
. Find this ‘Redeemer' if he exists and arrest him and his associates. See whether these contacts between Belamar and France amount to criminal activity, treason or heresy. You will act as a special justice and carry the king's seal and the royal baton. His Majesty must have clarity in these matters, and he wishes this to be accomplished quickly. The court will leave for Aragon in January, but this matter must be resolved before the winter. After that, many of the roads in the mountains will be closed. You will report directly to me—and only to me—on a weekly basis. The viceroy will see that messengers and anything else you require will be at your disposal. Any questions?”

“Yes. As the investigating judge, will I be expected to administer punishment?”

“An excellent question, Licenciado. This will not be like Jaén. You will be required to show flexibility, diplomacy and discretion. The Aragonese have their own courts, and so do the lords. As the king's special justice, you will have the authority to conduct your investigation and make arrests. The question of punishment will depend on the results of your investigation and whether the men you arrest are Aragonese or Castilian. I'm sure we can resolve these matters through consultation. But the Aragonese will not allow you to enter their territory with a large retinue. If you need extra men, Calvo can supply them.”

“Troops are useful for repression, not investigations,” Mendoza said. “But I do need to take some men with me whom I can depend on. Five will be enough. Two special constables, two soldiers, and I would like to take my page as a scrivener.”

“We do have scriveners in Aragon, Licenciado Mendoza. We aren't savages.”

“I need a scribe who isn't fixed to any particular place,” Mendoza insisted. “Someone who can travel with me. My page's writing is already of professional standard. As a nonprofessional he will require only expenses and not a salary.”

Saravia looked pleased at this, and Villareal handed him two sealed letters and a thin file of papers. “Here are your letters of introduction, a copy of the last report from the Inquisition and the latest letter we have received from the viceroy concerning the priest's murder. I have already informed him that you are coming to Zaragoza. You should report to him in the first instance. How soon can you depart?”

“I can leave in three days.”

“Very good.” Villareal glanced at his stick as if he were still weighing up his choice. “Your wound at Lepanto—was it serious?”