The Flesh and the Devil (34 page)

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Authors: Teresa Denys

BOOK: The Flesh and the Devil
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‗Senora, you sent for me.‘

         

         

         
He spoke quietly from the doorway, and she turned to see
him standing there, grave and deferential, with the trace of gentleness in his
harsh face that he seemed to keep for her and that had first encouraged her to
hope. Although the hour was late, his plain back doublet was immaculate, and
she wondered whether he had put on a fresh one to answer her summons; certainly
the thick copper hair was darkened with water, as though he had recently given
it a thorough sluicing. Her pulse quickened slightly, but she managed to smile
with her usual remote sweetness.

         

         

         
‗Senor Tristan, I need your counsel. I regret
disturbing your rest.‘

         

         

         
There was a faint glimmer of irony in the green eyes. ‗It
is no matter, senora, I was not resting.‘

         

         

         
‗You are good.‘ She crossed towards the bed and
signed to him to follow her, biting her lip nervously. ‗The doctors tell
me-‘ her voice was almost inaudible

         
– ‗that my husband will not soon recover from his
sickness, and I must therefore rule the castillo while my nephew –‗she
hesitated – ‗is not of age. The Castillo Benaventes is a heavy burden for
a lonely woman to bear – it needs a master until one or other of them can take
his place at the centre. What do you say to it?‘

         

         

         
She looked up at him quickly, almost imploringly, eagerness
pathetically clear in her lined, ash-pale face. His expression did not change.

         

         

         
‗It might be wise to send to Portugal for the Duque‘s
counsin. Don Gaspar would most surely be willing to take charge of his
inheritance until your husband recovers – or until His Grace comes of age.‘

         

         

         
‗Don Gaspar! I had forgotten him.‘ She made a small
grimace, her thin lips working. ‗But until he comes – it could be months
before he is fetched from his regiment, even if he can be spared from the wars
there! Senor-Felipe – you could give me your counsel‘ she hesiated – ‗help
me to rule‘.

         

         

         
‗It is not possible, senora.‘ Tristan spoke very
quietly, but the words seemed to trigger off a stream of compulsive speech.

         

         

         
‗You are wrong, because I can get leave of Torres for
you to do it – he listens to me, and I can persuade him to appoint you steward
in the King‘s name. I can tell him how worthy of office you are, and he will
get the King to agree – he has always grudged my brother this estate – the King,
I mean – for it was once his own, but there were no other lands he could grant
poor Esteban, and even he did not care to break with precedent so far as to
create a landless Duque!‘ She was chattering, her dark eyes feverish. ‗I
suited his purpose to grant my poor brother nobility then, but as soon as
he-‘She broke off. ‗Later he regretted what he had done, and now he has
no use for any of us. But he will still care to have the estates well governed.
I shall see to it that you are appointed.‘

         

         

         
‗No, senora, it will not answer.‘

         

         

         
She shook her head, brushing the words aside with an
impatient sweep of one frail hand. ‗I shall say that there is no other I
can trust. You know our ways –

         
you could order things as well as Eugenio – better. I
c-could,‘ she was beginning to stammer, ‗find someone else to take charge
of Bartolome, for I know those dduties irk you; I wonder you could bear them
without complaint for so long, but this prank of his proves that he needs
sterner g-guardians. You may use everything here as if it were your own -‘ her
fingers closed desperately on his arm, tugging –

         
‗but you m-must…‘

         

         

         
‗Senora, your husband is awake.‘

         

         

         
Without visible emotion, Tristan nodded towards the bed,
where Eugenio de Castaneda now lay with his eyes open. One side of the meaty
face had slackened as if a painter had run a careless and over a wet portrait,
smearing it downwards; not a muscle moved in the inert, shapeless body, but
life still flickered obstinately between the bleared lids. Dona Luisa gave a
little laugh that cracked in the middle.

         

         

         
‗He must have heard what I was offering you. The loss
of a single reale would revive you from death itself, would it not, Eugenio?
Especially if it is one that you have stolen first!‘ She patted his cheek
almost playfully, with the blatantly false affection that he had so often
displayed to her in front of others.

         
‗Can you speak, my darling? Can you tell me why I
should not do as I have said?‘

         

         

         
A low sound, like the grating of rusty hinges, seemed to
burst from the region of de Castaneda‘s chest. His lips did not move; there
were no words, only the sound. Dona Luisa laughed again.

         

         

         
‗Ah, so he hears. Listen, Eugenio! I am going to give
to Felipe everything you have worked for, everything you have lied and cheated
and ruined other lives to get. I lost my happiness when you brought me here
against my will, but now chance has given it back to me – your precious
Bartolome cannot live much longer, sick as he is, and when he dies the King
himself will not rejoice more than I shall. I shall be free then, free to leave
this royal madhouse if I choose, and all your greed cannot claim his estate
when he is my kin and not yours.‘

         

         

         
She looked up at Tristan, a strange, wild look on her face
as she spoke.

         

         

         
‗Did you guess that Bartolome was the King‘s bastard?
That he granted my brother the title and estates in a fit of remorse after he
had raped my brother‘s wife? That is why we are pent up here in this mausoleum
and are forbidden by law to come near the King. His Majesty takes care that
nothing shall remind him of his son‘s existence, for fear that the sight of
what he once begot will put his wives in fear. If the new Queen should see my
nephew!‘ She made a parodied grimace.

         
‗My sister-in-law immured herself in a convent when
she saw what she had borne. The Hapsburg strain is poisoned.‘

         

         

         
Tristan‘s head barely moved in assent, but by now she was
past heeding him and darted a venomous glance down at the bed. ‗But His
Majesty the King did not reckon with my beloved husband‘s ingenuity – he
thought he had chosen simple people to be the boy‘s guardians, and at first so
did I. I would not be living now, I swear, if Eugenio could have kept that
authority without me! But he needed me to claim stewardship of all this estate,
and he wanted to stay its lord in all but name. So, of course, the minority
will continue with Bartolome‘s son, who will need kind guardians as much as his
poor father has done. Eugenio explained it all when he first decided to have
the boy married, and it was all intended for the benefit of the estate.‘
Bitterness welled into her voice. ‗I had nightmares when he first told
me, of caring for sons and grandsons and then great-grandsons, each one worse
than the last. But he did not care! So long as none of them outlived his
guardianship!‘

         

         

         
‗It could not be so,‘ Tristan interceded almost
gently.

         

         

         
‗No? It was all for nothing, then? Dragging me to
Aragon to court the King‘s favour, burying us here – and sending my brother‘s
horse wild one day, so that poor Esteban was thrown and killed, for fear he
would claim charge of the child instead?‘

         

         

         
Her stare intensified, and she stooped lower over the bed
as the faint, rusty sound came again. When she straightened her face was
radiant.

         

         

         
‗He thought I did not know.‘ She began to laugh
again, louder and more wildly than before. ‗He thought I did no know!‘

         

         

         
‗Senora, you must leave this.‘ Tristan‘s tone had an edge
that belied his still expression. ‗It does no good.‘

         

         

         
‗True! Not if Torres has his way tomorrow.‘ Dona
Luisa sobered slowly, her breath coming in shallow hiccupping gasps. ‗He
means to send you into Navarre, as an outrider for that girl. But you will not
consent to go, will you?‘

         

         

         
The scarred face tightened almost unnoticeably. ‗To
Navarre?‘

         

         

         
‗He has chosen you to be her escort back to her
father‘s house.‘ Swiftly, her face contorted, Dona Luisa outlined what had
happened. ‗I pitied the girl, and I knew that Torres would take any
course that would keep Bartolome from marrying, so I told him that I knew she
was not willing. Now she is to be sent home, and we need trouble no more about
her.‘ Some quality in the silence made her look up with dread sharpening her
face. ‗Felipe, you will not consent?‘

         

         

         
‗She agreed to go willingly.‘ It was not a question.

         

         

         
‗I thought she would swoon with joy! But she did not
want your escort –

         
Torres insisted on it and made her yield. It would be
kinder to allow her to travel in company with that handsome boy who came from
her father this morning. It would not be correct to allow it, of course –‗she
glanced away from him, speaking softly – ‗but it is plain enough that he
wishes to wed her himself, so there would be no harm in it.‘

         

         

         
His silence perplexed her, and she looked up again, falling
silent abruptly as she saw his face. He agreed politely, ‗She would not
wish for me,‘ but there was a sudden, menacing stillness about the tall, lean
frame and an uncanny light in the jewelled eyes.

         

         

         
She said uneasily, ‗Oh no, that was plain enough –
but it need not concern you. I shall contrive things so that you need not leave
here.‘

         

         

         
Tristan smiled slightly, without humour, and bowed with his
usual punctilious courtesy. ‗I shall not trouble you so far, senora. I
can assure you, I shall delight in taking Senorita de Arrelanos whither she is
bound.‘

         

         

         
Brittle – boned fingers reached out to clutch at his dark
sleeve as he turned away, but Dona Luisa‘s hand failed to touch the cloth.
Tristan had reached the door in three swift strides, and he did not look back
before the door swung to behind him. When Dona Luisa at last realized that she
had been weeping, it was too late to deny her husband the pleasure of seeing
her tears.

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