The Devils of Cardona (30 page)

All this had become his world, and so, too, was the pervasive fear and anxiety that percolated through the village. It was evident in the strained faces of the Morisco laborers and their families working in the fields, in the sentries who continued to guard the lower entrance to the village despite Mendoza's advice to leave the protection of the village to his men, in the rumors that coursed constantly through the town of bandit attacks on the road or in the next valley, in the reports that journeymen and peasants and tinkers brought back with them from Jaca and Huesca of fights and
quarrels between Moriscos and
montañeses
, of impending inquisitorial investigations, of another pilgrim or merchant attacked on the roads.

Many of these stories were impossible to confirm or disprove, and they only added to the collective unease. Perhaps it was because these threats emanated from outside the village, but the Moriscos no longer seemed to hold Mendoza and his men in suspicion, and many of them seemed glad to have armed constables patrolling the streets. The most notable exception, from Gabriel's point of view, was Segura's family. Since their father's departure, Juana and her brothers no longer brought him breakfast or invited him next door to eat with them, and they ignored him when they passed him in the street. Gabriel knew that they were angry with Mendoza, not him, but Juana's hostility was particularly difficult to endure, because of all Belamar's inhabitants there was no one whose goodwill he was more keen to maintain and no one he thought of more frequently or more fondly.

•   •   •

I
T
WAS
PARTLY
in hope of seeing her that he kept his lonely vigils at the village hall. On the third day after Mendoza's departure, Gabriel was sitting by the window in Segura's office in the late afternoon, waiting for Martín to come for his class, when he glanced out and saw her crossing the square. She was wearing the same long loose skirt, shawl and sandals that she always wore, plus a white head scarf that covered most of her dark hair, and she was carrying a basket. He hurriedly put away his book and picked up his pen and stared intently down at the blank paper until she entered the room and stood looking at him dubiously.

“I want to see Constable Necker,” she said.

“He's out on patrol. Can I help?”

“I think I've seen a bandit. I was up in the woods picking herbs. I saw a man on a horse near the charcoal burners' camp. He was staring down on the village as if he was spying on it.”

“You shouldn't be out in the woods alone.”

Juana regarded him pityingly. “I'm not afraid, scrivener, even if you are. I was only on the other side of the ravine. I saw the horseman looking down from the ridge.”

“Well, then.” Gabriel got to his feet and picked up his borrowed sword from the table. “You'd better show me where you saw him.”

“Don't you have to ask for permission first?” she said mockingly.

Gabriel reddened. He heard his guardian's voice telling him that she was right, but in that moment he was filled with a sudden desire to prove to her and to himself that he was not just a scrivener who wrote down the things that other people told him.

“There's no need for that. Just show me what you saw.”

A faint smile briefly flitted across her face before she resumed the same expression of frosty disdain. He followed her down to the old village wall, and they descended the steep footpath past the stream till they reached the floor of the ravine where he had watched his guardian disappear only three days before. Within a few minutes, the village was out of sight, and for the first time in his life he was alone with a girl, and with a sword hanging from his belt. The experience was so unusual and so pleasant that it left him tongue-tied as the two of them walked side by side along the ravine.

“My father's too old to go to France,” she said suddenly. “It was wrong of Licenciado Mendoza to make him go.”

“He didn't make him. And he wouldn't have gone if he didn't think it was necessary.”

“Well, if anything happens to him, I'll hold Mendoza responsible—and you as well.”

“Nothing's going to happen to him. My guardian will make sure of it.”

She did not look convinced, but she seemed less hostile now that they were away from the village. He asked her what she had in her basket, and she explained the names and properties of the flowers and herbs she had collected: chamomile for settling stomachs, yarrow for treating wounds,
mint for toothaches and resin for improving the flow of blood. He barely paid any attention to the names, and as he glanced at her jet-black hair under the head scarf and listened to the sound of her voice, he remembered what his guardian had told him about women and realized that Mendoza was right about that, as he was about most things. Her company was so enjoyable and so sweetly intoxicating that Gabriel felt disappointed when she pointed to the hill above the woods where she had seen the horseman and he saw that there was no one there. Once again he heard Mendoza's voice telling him to go back, but he found himself saying that he was going to take a closer look.

Once again she smiled, but this time there was no mockery in it. “If you're going, then I'm going, scrivener,” she said.

He smiled back at her as they walked toward the path leading up into the woods. They had just reached it when he saw the dark shape running down the path toward them. At first he thought it was an animal, but as it drew closer, he saw that it had two legs and that its face was entirely black. It was not until the creature was nearly upon them that he realized that it was a young girl. She looked about ten years old, though it was difficult to tell from the smoke that covered her matted hair, her face, legs and arms and her hessian smock.

“It's the charcoal burner's daughter!” Juana said as the girl gesticulated back toward the woods.

“Why doesn't she say anything?” Gabriel asked.

“She doesn't speak or hear.”

Even without words the girl was obviously terrified. Gabriel's first instinct was to return to the village. But then he thought once again of all the times he had taken the long way around to the
colegio
to avoid the boys who would be waiting to attack him, or had run away when he saw them coming. He thought of Ventura and Necker and knew that they would not turn from danger, and he was filled with a sudden surge of bravado.

“How far is the charcoal burners' camp?”

“It's about ten minutes from here,” Juana replied.

“Take her back to the village and send Constable Necker and Sergeant Ventura,” he said. “I'm going to take a look.”

•   •   •

H
IS
VOICE
SOUNDED
strange and new to him. It was a man's voice—bold, fearless and decisive—and he sensed that even Juana was impressed by it. She took the girl's hand, and the two of them hurried off. As soon as they were gone, he felt his courage begin to falter. He heard a bird fly out of the trees and a sudden breath of wind that made the leaves tremble all around him. Fragments of old myths and stories flitted through his mind, of dragons and witches and brave knights on quests. He thought of stories he had read about Amadis of Gaul, the perfect knight, slayer of giants and dragons. He thought of Theseus in the labyrinth, Jason and the Golden Fleece, Perseus and Medusa, as the forest swallowed him up till he could no longer see the ravine.

Even though he was walking slowly and cautiously, his footsteps seemed to echo, and he stopped frequently and looked around at the silent forest to ensure that no one was following him. He'd been walking for nearly ten minutes when he heard the strange wail from somewhere ahead of him. It was midway between a moan and a scream, and he was not sure whether it came from a man or a woman or whether it was even human at all. Once again he wanted to turn back and run, but he told himself that if he did, he would be abandoning whoever had screamed, and no man who wanted to be a hero would ever do that. He could smell smoke now, and he saw a clearing up ahead through the dim light as he continued to inch forward, holding the sword in both hands.

At the edge of the clearing, he stopped, lowered the weapon and stared in disbelief at the scene of horror that confronted him. Directly before him a dead dog was lying in the still-smoldering fire pit. To the left of it, on
the other side of the clearing, a man and a woman were dangling side by side from the tree where they'd been hanged. Both of them were barefoot, and their blackened faces and clothes gave them an inhuman, ghoulish appearance.

On the right of the clearing, a man in a brown tunic and a cloth hat folded down over his ears was sitting on a bench outside a wooden hut, nonchalantly gnawing on a piece of bread. He had his back turned, and a short broadsword was thrust into his belt behind him. He was looking into the dark doorway, where Gabriel heard the sound of violent movement and the unmistakable moans of a woman.

“God's blood. Aren't you whoremongers finished with her yet?” The man yawned.

The moans abruptly stopped, and a moment later a tall, bearded man emerged from the doorway.

“We have now.” He bent down to wipe his knife on the grass. As he did so, he looked up and saw Gabriel standing by the clearing.

“Well, well. We have company.”

Gabriel felt his bravado draining out of him now as he turned sideways and raised the sword horizontally in front of him with his palm turned upward, holding the other hand out for balance as Ventura had taught him. But the weapon no longer felt the same as it had when he'd practiced with it or cut elegant shapes in the air in the solitude of his own room. It seemed to have gotten heavier, or else he'd become weaker. The man in the cloth hat had turned around and reached for his own sword, and now another man emerged from the hut. The two of them moved away from their bearded companion, who crouched down slightly, moving the knife back and forth in slow, almost playful movements.

“So you want to fight, boy?” he sneered. “Let's see, shall we?”

It was only then, as the three bandits spread out and slowly advanced toward him, that Gabriel gave in to panic and turned to run. But his movements were too clumsy and too sudden, and he tripped and let go of the
sword. Before he could retrieve it, the bearded man had grabbed him by the hair and pulled him upright till Gabriel was kneeling on the ground in front of him. All thoughts of great deeds had evaporated into the chill dark forest now, and his whole body flinched at the awful realization that he was about to be slaughtered like an animal and that it was all his own fault.

“Please don't kill me,” he whimpered.

“The Morisco says we shouldn't kill him!”

“
Por Dios
, stop playing with him and get it over with, Manu,” said the man with the cloth hat. “We haven't got all night.”

“I'll finish him, all right. But the boss said he wanted a show. Let's string him up with the others.”

“Hombre. There's not enough rope.”

“There's some in the shed. Go and get it.”

The bandit gripped Gabriel's neck with one powerful hand and dragged him to his feet while his companion rummaged around in the shed. It was nearly dark now, and Gabriel looked up at the purple sky and tried to pray, but he could not remember the words to any prayers. Instead he found himself saying, “I'm not Morisco.”

“Well, isn't that your bad luck!” the bearded man exclaimed.

“I can't find it, Manu,” the bandit called nervously. “And I don't like being in here with her.”

“Believe me, she won't get up.”

“Her eyes are still open.”

The bearded man chuckled. “They can't see you!”

“But I can.”

The two bandits turned around and stared at the dark figure standing in the path from which Gabriel had emerged only a few minutes before. It was impossible to see his face, but Gabriel recognized Ventura's voice even before the pistol shot rang out. The bearded man relaxed his grip and fell back across the dead dog and the burning coals. The other bandit ran toward the
two hanging bodies, but Ventura calmly aimed the other pistol and shot him in the back before he reached the shelter of the trees.

“Come here, boy! Quickly!” Ventura shouted. “Are there any more?”

“In the hut!”

No sooner had he spoken than the third bandit came bursting out of the doorway and ran toward them with his sword raised. But now Necker emerged from the trees beside Ventura and brought his two-hander down on the top of the man's head, splitting his skull like a large nut. Behind him, armed Moriscos now appeared at the edge of the clearing, some of whom were carrying torches, and Gabriel saw Juana standing with her hand over her mouth and looking at the hanging bodies. Necker ordered the Moriscos to cut them down and held up a torch in front of the shed.

“There's a woman in here,” he said. “She's dead, too.”

“Well, bring her out, then,” Ventura ordered.

“She shouldn't come out,” replied Necker. “Not as she is.”

Ventura peered into the doorway. “By the Holy Cross, they don't do things by halves, do they? Cover her up and put the other bodies in the shed. We'll come and get them in the morning. The animals can have these bastards. Did they bring horses?”

“I don't know,” Gabriel said. “I didn't see any.”

“Never mind. We'd better get back. There might be more of them.”

Necker and the Moriscos cut the two bodies down and carried them to the shed, and the German pushed the bench against the door to keep it shut. Gabriel retrieved his sword and sheathed it once again. He did not look at Juana, but he was glad that it was too dark for her to see his face.

Ventura patted him on his shoulder. “Are you all right, boy?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. And Constable Necker, too.”

“You should thank Juana. If she hadn't gotten back so quickly, we wouldn't have made it here in time. She was very concerned about you.” He lowered his voice. “And when we get back, maybe you can tell me what in
all the devils in hell made you think you could come up here by yourself without telling anyone.”