The Errant Flock (32 page)

Chapter Sixty-Four

The inquisitor, recovering from his shallow wound, sat in a cushioned chair in front of a blazing hearth fire and gazed at his grandson with love and a measure of suspicion. Feeling sick to his stomach, shocked, and outraged, his mind fought against the alleged facts being laid before him. The allegations were too evil even to contemplate, and he was still unwilling to believe a word of what he was hearing. Lifting his eyes, he stared again at the magistrate, Father Bernardo, and the viceroy, standing before him in a line. No doubt they were waiting for him to explode with outrage or weep with inconsolable sorrow.

His silence was palpable. He accepted that a viceroy and priest would not be there were they not fully convinced that their accusations held merit. Likewise, a magistrate never accused a person of any crime without having some credible evidence or witness at hand. Yet he could not bring himself to do what they were asking of him. Lowering his eyes, he stared lovingly at Gaspar. How could he live without the grandson he had come to love above all else? He would never have another, he reminded himself. He would soon lose his only child, and when Josefa died, his line would be at an end. It was unimaginable and unacceptable.

“As if the accusations against my son by law were not absurd enough, you say you want me to strip my grandson naked and allow you to inspect his body?” he questioned angrily.

“It is the only way to know for sure, Your Excellency,” the viceroy said.

De Amo tightened his hold on the baby. “No, I won’t do as you ask. This is my daughter’s child. I see the resemblance between them.”

“Inquisitor, I have done you the courtesy of coming to you first. We have not questioned your daughter or the duke, and we will not if we can disprove the grandparents’ claim,” the viceroy insisted. “If you don’t comply, I will be forced to make this investigation public. I was asked by Sagrat’s council to come to the town because of its present troubles. Your son by law’s inability to keep order in this town has already reached the king’s ear in Granada, and I will be writing a full report on what I have seen and experienced here. No one is above the law, not even your family.”

“Have a care! I am the inquisitor! My office has a long reach, Viceroy, and I have a long memory.”

“Let me remind you that my arm is just as long and as powerful as yours.”

De Amo’s chest tightened with fear. Without insulting the viceroy, there was no way to avoid doing as he was asked. Being inquisitor gave him power and privilege, but the Inquisition had to walk hand in hand and in close cooperation with the civil authorities. Without that mutual respect, there would be no order. He was not afraid to arrest a count, a duke, or even a clergyman, but the viceroy of Valencia was out of his reach.

Reluctantly, he handed the infant to his nurse and then rose painfully from his chair. “Wait outside. Let the nurse unwrap the baby in private. When we have him prepared, I will call you,” De Amo said, without looking at the men.

“We will be outside the door. Please do us the courtesy of being quick about this,” The Viceroy said curtly.

“The mere suggestion that you have all believed the lies of a dying thief makes my blood run cold,” De Amo said bitterly as they were leaving. “But I will do as you ask, and after it is done, I will expect an apology from all three of you... And you will arrest the accuser.”

              Five minutes later, the viceroy, Father Bernardo, and the magistrate were invited back into the inquisitor’s chamber. The naked baby lay on the bed on top of a white cotton sheet. De Amo threw a look of disgust in the direction of the three men and then ordered the nurse to lift the infant and hold him in the air with his back to the visitors.

The oval-shaped dark red birthmark was situated in the centre of the baby’s back and covering part of the long spinal bone. De Amo watched the men’s reaction with an impassive expression. After a minute or two, he ordered that the baby be laid back down and covered up with the sheet.

“You can see that there is indeed a mark on the baby’s back,” De Amo said quite calmly, “but I would like you to listen to what the nurse has to say before you come to any ridiculous conclusions about my grandson’s heritage.” Nodding to the nurse, he continued. “Tell them what you told me.”

The nurse, a small rounded woman wearing a headscarf and thick white apron over her dull dress, flicked her eyes nervously at the three men and then couldn’t seem to stop herself from taking an anxious deep breath. “I was present at the infant’s birth, your mercies,” she began. “I helped the physician bathe him just minutes after he came into the world. I remember seeing the red mark on his back because it was so distinctive. I thought at the time that I had never seen anything like it on a baby’s body. I assure you that this is the duchess’s child, borne from her womb …”

The viceroy was granted a private audience with De Amo, whilst Father Bernardo, Tur, and the magistrate were ordered to wait for further instructions in the great hall. Trepidation tore through Tur’s body as he sensed an invisible rope tightening around his neck. Standing some distance away from Father Bernardo and the magistrate gave him time to observe them and to think about how he was going to save his hide from an arrest, which was looking increasingly more likely.

The priest wrung his hands and sat staring at one particular spot on the wooden table. The magistrate, on the other hand, flicked his eyes around the hall, jumped at the slightest sound, and continuously bit his lips. Neither looked Tur’s way, nor did they speak to each other.

Tur wondered if they were as scared as he was and if perhaps they were regretting making the accusations against Peráto. Powerful men literally got away with murder and every other sin spawned by the devil. Accusers were more likely to be murdered for opening their mouths than the noble being accused of perpetrating a crime. And to point a finger at a member of the Holy Council for covering up a crime was unheard of, he reminded himself. Heads would roll, maybe even the viceroy’s, should any more accusations against the inquisitor’s family be pursued further. It made sense that his head would roll first.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Appearing worried and seemingly indecisive, the viceroy paced up and down the great hall and repeatedly refused Father Bernardo’s request that he sit down. His arms were crossed in a defensive position. His hands lay on each forearm, and his fingers tapped his skin, making an irritable noise which sounded like dripping rainwater. Despite all his intentions, Tur couldn’t drag his eyes away. His heartbeat had quickened the moment the viceroy had walked into the great hall, mumbling under his breath and continually pushing his hair back from his forehead, even though it wasn’t unruly.

Staring angrily at the magistrate and Father Bernardo, the viceroy finally said, “There is no more to be done regarding the infant. We can neither prove nor disprove the claims that have been made by the grandparents or the nurse. It would seem we are at an impasse. The inquisitor will never give the baby up to us.”

“My Lord, the birthmark!” Tur inadvertently cried out. “The grandparents knew about it? Is that not proof enough?”

“No, it is not, Tur,” Father Bernardo said hurriedly. “Workers in the castle often tell tales about what goes on here to their neighbours. There are gossiping shrews in every street. Perhaps the nurse spoke to people about the mark.”

“I’ll wager my little pinky that that’s not the case, Padre,” the viceroy said impatiently. “Magistrate, what do you have to say about this?”

Strangely pensive, the magistrate seemed to be either wavering in his opinion or was perhaps too afraid to call the inquisitor a liar. Shaking his head as though searching for the right words, he answered. “I believe it’s time we either speak to the duke or leave.”

“I think we should go now. Arrest Captain Tur and his militia and put this sordid matter to rest,” Father Bernardo said in an agitated tone. “The town has suffered enough.”

Tur was becoming increasingly alarmed by father Bernardo’s demands, and only the certainty of being in the right gave him the strength to carry on. Bringing himself up to his full height, he found this the perfect time to get the men to focus their attention on the duke. “Your Mercies, begging your pardon, I have been informed that the duke’s valet has been trying unsuccessfully to get into His Grace’s chamber since early morning. My men have tried to open the door and have banged on it repeatedly, but there has been no answer from within.”

“Then he is out somewhere or he does not want to be disturbed,” Father Bernardo said harshly.

“I don’t believe so, Padre. The doors cannot be locked from the inside unless someone is actually in the chamber.”

“Lord above in heaven, it’s possible that this is becoming the most unsettling affair I have ever had to deal with,” the viceroy said, slamming his fists on the table. Without waiting for the others, he strode from the hall, shouting to Tur over his shoulder as he went. “Show me the way to the duke’s chambers, Captain. I will not leave this castle until I have an answer to something or other!”

Tur knocked loudly on the door. When there was no response from within, he waited a minute or two and then thumped the thick iron-studded wood with his fist. “Your Grace, His Excellency, the viceroy, is here on urgent business!”

“Open it,” the viceroy said when there was no answer the second time.

It took time, but eventually a ramming device comprised of a smooth tree trunk with two handles on opposite ends was brought and placed in front of the doors. Tur gave the order to strike, but the doors were built to withstand a major assault, and it took some time for the wooden bar on the inside of them to finally crack and then snap into two pieces.

After drawing his sword, Tur entered, followed by the three dignitaries, the duke’s valet, and Paco, who had been one of the men banging on the doors earlier. The chamber was empty, and for a moment, all of them stood mystified and in silence. Going to the long, narrow shuttered window, Tur noticed that it was also barred. Not that anyone would be foolish enough to jump out of it, he thought. Frowning at the mystery, he asked the valet, “Is there any other exit?”

“No, the only other room in here is the wardrobe, where the duke’s clothes are kept. It’s behind that curtain.”

Tur walked into an anteroom and looked around. All he  could see were stacks of tunics, breeches, cloaks, boots, hats, and  all other manner of clothing. How could one man wear everything in here in a single lifetime? he couldn’t help but wonder. Then, directing his oil-lit torch to one particular cabinet, he saw the partially hidden hole beside it.

The viceroy stood behind him, and behind him the magistrate and Father Bernardo, who was clutching his rosary at his chin and kissing the wooden crucifix attached to the beads. Without words, Tur slipped into the hole. Seeing the stairs, he shouted for the others to follow, and then he descended to the bottom.

Tur stood open-mouthed, stunned, and panting with shock. Feeling as if he’d been struck dumb, he could only manage to point to the duke’s dead body lying on the ground.

Father Bernardo moaned like a man in agony. The viceroy gasped and instinctively put his hands to his throat. The magistrate clamped his hand over his mouth. His eyes widened and looked as though they were about to pop out of his head, but neither he nor the others seemed to be able to utter a single word.

Tur tried to concentrate on the scene. His mind knew what he was seeing: Luis Peráto, the duke of Sagrat, had been murdered in a secret chamber and was lying beside the two chests of coin that had been stolen from the municipal palace on the day of the auto-de-fé. The words sounded ridiculous in his mind, and they would sound even more fanciful if he were to say them aloud. But it was true.

“Holy Mother of Jesus,” the viceroy said, breaking the silence.

“God have mercy on us,” the magistrate uttered under his breath.

And Father Bernardo wept.

Tur managed to calm himself enough to focus on the rest of the chamber. An opening on the wall covered by an iron grill, which was ajar, drew his attention first. Getting on his knees, he poked his lit torch inside and saw that a tunnel stretched as far as his eyes could see. “Crawl into that tunnel and follow it to its end,” he ordered Paco.

Watching Paco’s figure disappear into the darkness, Tur thought,
If that tunnel comes out on the hill, I’ll feel ashamed for not knowing about it, and so I should.
“I knew nothing about this tunnel or this chamber,” he said sheepishly to the viceroy.

The viceroy ordered the valet to send for more soldiers and asked Tur, “What can you tell us about his death?”

Studying Peráto’s body more closely, Tur answered, “It would appear that the duke died of a single slash to his throat, and I can see no reason to believe he put up a fight. There are no defensive wounds or signs of a struggle.”

“He does look surprised,” Father Bernardo said, getting on his knees to pray. “God have mercy on his soul!”

The magistrate stared at the two chests of coin and shook his head as though his mind was denying the sight of them. “It’s impossible. How did he manage to get them in here?”

Bending down, Tur pointed his torch’s flame into the hole in the wall. “My man should be back soon. He’ll tell us where this tunnel leads.” Staring again at the chests engraved with the duke of Sagrat’s family seal, he said in a grim voice, “It might be wide enough to take the chests, but the duke would have needed a lot of help to pull them in here. He certainly didn’t get past my men standing guard outside the chamber’s doors …”

The viceroy, looking furious but with not a hint of sympathy for Luis, said, “I care not a whit how or why he did what he did. He was obviously demented. I am only concerned with what I now believe to be true.” Taking a last look at Luis, whose eyes were wide open and staring up at the ceiling, he added, “He played with the devil and got burnt, I’ll wager. Tur, I am wrong in presuming that his marauder friends killed him, turning on him like the dogs they are.”

“No, I don’t believe you are wrong. It would appear that is the case, my lord. It’s the only explanation.”

The viceroy then said, “I don’t think we need to investigate this further. It’s obvious to me that the duke colluded with thieves and murderers to rob the municipal palace, murder innocent people, and set fire to this town. These,” he said, wagging his finger at the chests of coin, “are all the evidence I need to write a formal report to the king, in which I will charge the duke with atrocious crimes. I will demand that the Peráto family and their heirs lose their claim on the dukedom and that their family name be stained … Now get me out of this stinking hole and take me to the inquisitor!”