The Winding Stair (43 page)

‘Quite so.' At last he turned away, and on the instant the rest of the madeira was soaking into the curtain.

‘I feel better now.' She moved back to the table and grasped it as if for support. If only she knew what those drops were supposed to do to her. She must just hope that Vasco had not seen their effect before.

Luckily, he was impatient to be off. ‘I will take you up to Luisa. She has your cloak ready for you. We must lose no more time.'

‘Shall I really need a bandage over my eyes?' Juana asked as she rejoined Vasco. ‘I can't see a thing if I pull my hood together so.' Would he trust her? It would be immensely encouraging if he did.

He laughed. ‘But suppose you forgot, my Queen. This is a secret too dangerous for a woman.'

It is indeed, she thought; the secret of your treachery. And shrugged, and made a little moue: ‘You must be the judge, of course.'

‘Of course.' He took her arm to lead her down the stairs. Down, at last, past the dining room, down to the central courtyard where she had longed to be for her two endless weeks of captivity. She had time to see that the great gates were still tight shut. Vasco was taking no chances.

He helped her into the carriage with all the deference due to a Queen, then took a silk scarf out of his pocket. ‘The time has come.'

‘So soon? And with the moonlight so beautiful. My first drive for two weeks, too!' She intended it merely as a token protest, and submitted with good grace as he tied the scarf around her hood so that she was blinded with a triple thickness of material. She thought they were both glad when it was over. It was odd, and terrifying, to realise that he actually disliked touching her. And yet he intended that she should bear his child. It conjured up a picture so horrible that she found herself shivering inside the heavy velvet.

‘You're cold?'

‘No,' she said with perfect truth. ‘I'm frightened. I hate going down that winding stair.'

‘It's the last time.' He spoke tolerantly, as to a child, and she knew he was pleased. It was right that she should be frightened.

‘How far can you come with me?'

‘Not all the way. I will get you to a place you know: the bottom of the second flight of stairs. Then, I fear, I must leave you. It would hardly do for me to be late for my own entrance, tonight of all nights.'

They drove for a long time, probably, she thought, round in a great circle. At last he made sure her blindfold was still in place before helping her out of the carriage. ‘Do exactly as I tell you,' he said. ‘The way is dangerous.'

A doorway … a long narrow passage, with her skirts brushing each side as she walked behind him, her hand on his shoulder … The stairs, upwards, extraordinarily difficult to negotiate blindfold. ‘Don't speak from now on,' he warned when they came to them, and she thought, with a pang, that they were no doubt
entering the Castle on the Rock. Through the wall, one way or the other, Daisy and Teresa might be sitting mourning for her. Or Maria, plotting against her, as she had been all the time.

‘Level ground now,' he whispered. A narrow opening. They must be in Mrs. Brett's bedroom, the room from which she had been abducted. Suppose she were to scream? In all probability there would not be a soul in the whole turret, now the old lady was dead. To scream would merely be to give herself away. But she longed to be sure. She pretended to trip, fell sideways, and touched material. Brocade. The curtains of Mrs. Brett's big four-poster?

‘Shh.' His angry arm was round her to hold her up. ‘Careful,' he whispered. ‘This way. Wait.'

She recognised the squeak of the wardrobe door as he opened it, heard him push clothes aside, and then waited, with strange amusement, while he had some difficulty in finding the secret spring at the back of the cupboard. He had known the other passage by heart, to this one he seemed, comparatively, a stranger. she had a frightened vision of the plunging steps they had to negotiate to reach the bottom of the second flight where he meant to leave her. It was bad enough on one's own, with a lamp, but to have to do it, blindfold, under his orders …

On the other hand it was a chance – a horrible one. She knew the winding stair much better than he did. She had only to pick one of the places where one side was open to perpendicular darkness. If she jumped there, and pulled him with her, they would both fall to certain death. It would save Portugal – perhaps. It would save her, at least, from the intolerable prospect of marriage with Vasco.

‘This way,' he whispered. He must have found the secret spring at last.

As she obeyed his whispered instructions and followed him down the stair through the castle, she carried on the dreadful argument with herself. If she killed them both, she would never know what she might have achieved by staying alive and taking her chance at the meeting.

‘We can talk now,' he said. They were through the bottom door and the dangerous stairs lay below. ‘Go very carefully,' his voice was louder now. ‘A step out of line means death.'

How well she knew it. Both their deaths. Was it courage, or cowardice, that kept her dutifully behind him, feeling her way
down the endless flights, pretending that she did not know, by count, when they reached the landings and the tunnel where the bats were. At last, on the second landing, he stopped. ‘Just a moment.' he said, ‘I must find the entrance.'

There was a little business of his making her stoop to go under an imaginary archway, of leading her up and down the landing a couple of times. Then, at last: ‘Here we are,' he said, and untied her bandage.

They were standing, as she had expected, on the second landing and he was busy lighting a spare lantern that must have been left ready for him. ‘From now on,' he said, ‘everything must be just as usual. You need have no fears of the acolytes, by the way. They are my friends. You know your way?'

‘Of course.'

‘I'll watch you down the next flight. Go carefully, my Queen.'

Of course he would watch her. He did not want her to see his lantern go twinkling back up the flights of stairs toward the Castle on the Rock. She was supposed to think he had brought her in by a different entrance. Starting obediently down the next flight, she thought about waiting and following him back up to the castle. Hopeless, of course. He would bolt the door at ground level and the one into the closet. Her chance must come, if it came at all, when he brought her in to present her to the Sons of the Star. Since she had not killed them both, she must stake everything on that moment.

After two weeks of constant surveillance, it was delicious to be alone, even down here in the dark heart of the cliff. She must have a long wait before her, since Vasco would have to go back up to the castle and so out to the cliff entrance. Would he go back the way they had come, or would Maria be waiting to let him out of the main gate of the castle? Maria? Or some other member of the family?

Horribly, anything was possible. And the acolytes were his friends, he had said, in warning or reassurance. So much for one of her plans. There was no hope of enlisting their aid against him. She passed through the door of the great cavern, then leaned against it for a moment, savouring the temporary feeling of safety. What would happen if she locked it behind her and simply did not open the great doors when the gong rang?

She dismissed the idea at once. That would be a coward's way. Besides, somewhere in the big cavern there must be another
entrance, the one from the Pleasant Valley. Bitterly, now, she regretted that she had never made herself come down early and look for it. But among the rough rock and shadows of this huge place, what chance would she have had?

She made herself go about her usual duties, then, when all was ready, found herself standing irresolute by the council table. Should she try, at this eleventh hour, to find the way out? It would at least be something to do, something to keep terror at bay. But would it? She remembered the first time, when she had slipped among the rocks making just such a search. If she was to have any chance of convincing the Sons of the Star of how Vasco intended to betray them, she must have a cool head and a calm voice. She put her lantern on the big table, sat down in the leader's chair and rehearsed what she must say. She would not have long. A few moments of surprise, before Vasco or his gang silenced her, would be all her hope. She must use them well. But suppose, in this moment of crisis, she should find herself stammering, even in Portuguese? She did not dare think about it. How stop herself? She remembered Gair, back in the sunlit maze at Forland House, where it all began. He had fooled her finely then, and she had sung, that night, for him alone. Tonight she would speak for herself. Would she ever have a chance to tell him that he had been as much a dupe as she? That they and Mrs. Brett had all been Vasco's puppets, jerked this way and that as he pleased? She would enjoy telling Gair that.

The sound of the gong knifed through her thoughts. Vasco had wasted no time. Did he not trust her alone in the cave? It was not a reassuring thought.

Strange to remember the simple fear she used to feel when she admitted the acolytes. Tonight's was compound, stifling … And, for this very reason, tonight everything must seem exactly as usual. She was relieved to feel no trace of stammer as she spoke her ritual greeting. If Vasco had not told her the acolytes were his friends, would she have appealed to them now? But already the moment was past, and she was shut in her cell. Once again, listening to the key grate in the lock outside, she felt the temptation to bolt herself in and refuse to stir. What would happen? She knew Vasco now. He would leave her to die, alone here in the dark.

The gong sounded for the second time. She thought she counted more slowly than usual, but when she opened the secret
panel the meeting had only just begun. As usual, the leader was speaking. It was odd to know he was Vasco.

And terrifying to hear how well he was putting his case. What chance had she, if ever she got a chance, of destroying his skilful argument? He spoke of Pombal, of Portugal for the Portuguese and, at last, of Sebastian, the lost Prince, and his own claim. In fact, she thought, he was really telling them very little, that was the genius of it. Without going into dangerous detail, he had whipped them up to a point where they were his to command.

‘Sebastian!' The shout rang through the cave. ‘Long live the House of Aviz.'

Watching, she thought she saw Vasco hesitate and was sure she could read his mind. He was wondering whether he needed her to back his claim. If he decided he did not, she was lost. Very likely she was lost anyway.

But one of the hooded figures had risen to ask a question. ‘Most Royal Star' – it was the Brother of the Silver Serpent – ‘Are you, after all these years, the only descendant of the lost Prince?'

‘No!' Vasco had reached his decision, or been pushed into it. ‘Brothers! Our Brother of the Silver Serpent has spoken well. There is indeed another descendant of the great Prince Sebastian, one with a better claim than mine to the throne of Portugal. She is my cousin, and my wife, Juana. She is also, thanks to the Star, mistress of the Castle on the Rock and Handmaiden of the Star. She waits now in the antechamber, as befits a woman, even a Princess. Is it your pleasure, brothers, that she appear before you, the first woman worthy of the notice of the Star?'

There was a murmur of approval, but Juana did not dare to listen longer. She closed the secret panel and sat down on her hard wooden chair to wait, trembling in every limb, for the summons of the Star. And, humbug, she told herself bracingly.

It did not feel like humbug when the key grated in the lock and the cell door swung open. She rose to her feet, pulled the hood close around her, and faced the two acolytes.

‘Daughter of the Star,' said the one who had unlocked the cell door. ‘The Star summons you to his presence.'

She was supposed to be surprised. ‘Now?' she said, and was aware of heads turning at the big table.

‘Yes, now.' This was Vasco's friend. He had not been taken by surprise, but must pretend to be. ‘Approach the Star, and fear not.'

Fear not? Lunatic advice. She moved forward with all the dignity she could muster. Too soon, now, to start speaking. She must await her chance – what did Vasco call it? Her moment of glory. Very likely her last.

The acolytes led her forward, and round the long table to where Vasco was waiting for her. As she approached, he threw back the hood from his face in a dramatic gesture and stood there for all to see under the big star that hung above the table. He held out his hand to her, his attention still focused on the hooded figures round the table. She was his puppet; he did not need to look at her. ‘Brothers of the Star,' he pushed back her hood to reveal her diadem-crowned head. ‘I, Vasco de Mascarenhas, lineal descendant of the great Sebastian, son of the House of Aviz, present to you my wife, Juana, Lady of Aviz and Queen of Portugal.'

Their shouts of approval echoed strangely through the cavern, then died away raggedly into silence. Now was her chance. She had thought of so many things to say. She said none of them. ‘Sons of the Star,' she pitched her voice as if she were singing, and it echoed back to her. ‘I am indeed Juana, Lady of the House of Aviz, descendant of the great Sebastian.' Beside her, she was aware of Vasco's astonishment. He had not expected his puppet to speak, but so far what she said suited him well enough. She had a few seconds more. ‘And I warn you,' she kept her voice clear and steady, ‘do not trust this man who will betray you as he has me. Ask him about the Treaty of Fontainebleau; ask him his plans for the Braganzas; ask—' strong hands pulled the hood over her face, silencing her.

Beside her, Vasco was speaking. ‘The woman is mad,' he said. ‘My Brothers, I had meant, for the sake of the House of Aviz, to endure this and make her my Queen. I should have known that no woman is worthy of trust. Out of her own mouth she has convicted herself of treachery to us all. We cannot allow of a divided claim. Brothers, out of a grieved heart I call for the verdict of the Star.'