Philippa Carr - Lion Triumphant

“That they never will.”

“You cannot understand the might of these ships, Madre.”

I did remember the majesty of one Spanish galleon.

“The day will come. It can come any time now. We have failed … but we will not always fail.”

“What has brought you here?” I asked anxiously. “You are in danger?”

“I may well be. I am not sure whether it was known that I was involved. I thought it wiser to leave. None know where I have gone. They may discover my involvement. Throckmorton is in the Tower. If they should rack him…”

“Throckmorton!” I said. “You are involved in this? Oh, Roberto. Roberto, what have you done?”

“I was given my post on the recommendation of Lord Remus and that may have saved me. Remus is trusted and he vouched for me. But because of this I thought I should get away for a time. So I came here. But, Madre, if they should come here to look for me…”

I said quickly: “How can we keep your visit a secret?”

“Just for a while, Madre … until we can be sure.”

I said: “Thank God your stepfather is not at home.”

He laughed. “What joy he would have in handing me over to Walsingham.”

“Walsingham!” I cried.

“He has his spies everywhere. It is due to him that we are discovered.”

“This is like a nightmare come to life. It is what I always feared. This conflict in the family. My mother suffered from it … so much. And now…”

There was a fanatical light in Roberto’s eyes. He took my hands. “Madre,” he said, “we have to bring back the True Religion to this sad country.”

“Tell me how you are involved. Tell me what has happened.”

“Francis Throckmorton has traveled widely in Spain. He has spoken to men of great influence there; he has seen what efforts are being made. From Madrid he went to Paris and there met agents of Queen Mary. The Queen’s family, the Guises, are proposing to raise an army and Throckmorton returned to London and set up in a house at Paul’s Wharf. There he received letters from Madrid and Paris and they were passed on to the Queen of Scots.”

“Oh, my God, Roberto, what are you involved in!”

“In trying to bring great benefits to this country. In trying to bring the people back to sanity, to truth and…”

“And to bring yourself to disaster.”

“Madre, I should be dying for a great cause and what would my death matter if that cause were to succeed?”

I said angrily: “It would matter to me. What do I care for causes? I care for my son … my family. What matters it to me what doctrines flourish? I believe in the simple one: love one another. It does not seem to involve how one worships, only that one behaves like a good Christian.”

“You think like a woman.”

“If only the whole world would do that it would be a happier place.”

He said: “Walsingham’s spies saw Throckmorton’s visits to the house of the Spanish ambassador. He was arrested; his house searched and there was found a list of Catholics in England who were prepared to take part in enterprises to restore the true religion.”

“And your name was among these?”

“It may well be.”

I was silent in my terror.

“We must hide you, Roberto. But for how long? Before the household is astir we must hide you.”

“Manuela will help,” he said.

I knew that he was right.

I said: “I will call her. But no one must know why. Stay here. Do not stray from this room. I will lock the door while I am away.”

I went down to the room where Manuela slept with Jennet. I was thankful for the promiscuous habits of Jennet, for she was not there and Manuela was alone. I was prepared to ask her for some toothache remedy if she was not, but that was not necessary.

“Manuela,” I whispered, “Roberto is here.”

She rose from her pallet with alacrity, her face alight with joy.

“He has come back?”

“He may be in danger.”

She nodded as I explained.

“We must hide him for a while,” I said. “You must help me.”

I had no doubt she would do this.

We went back to my room and unlocked the door. Manuela gathered Roberto in her arms. She spoke to him softly, lovingly in Spanish. The gist of her words was that she would willingly die for him.

She turned to me: “There is a hut on the border of the gardens. Old gardening tools are kept there. Few people go there.”

“The gardeners might,” I said.

“Nay. They do not. They keep all they need in the garden house. The weeds grow around the hut and it is shut off by bushes. If we could lock this we could hide Roberto there … for a while.”

“We must do it until we can find a better plan,” I said. “None must know, Manuela, that Roberto is here except we two.”

She nodded fiercely and I knew that I could trust her.

“We will take covering to keep him warm, and hot food. Can you do that, Manuela?”

“You may trust me to look after Roberto,” she said.

I knew it. Not only did she love him, but like him, she was a Catholic and she wished to see the Queen deposed, and Queen Mary set up in her place.

I said suddenly: “You came on a horse. Where is it?”

“I tethered it by the mounting block.”

Manuela and I looked at each other.

“We must take it into the stables,” I said. “Let it seem as though it has strayed in.”

“Will that be believed?” I asked Roberto.

“What else can we do? We cannot leave it there. Moreover, if you needed it quickly it would be ready.”

“I will see to it,” said Manuela.

This she did and although in the stables they talked of the strange horse that had suddenly appeared they were not unduly surprised. Someone would claim it, it was said. In the meantime it would be cared for with the others.

There followed two weeks of fearful apprehension.

I could not stop myself from walking near the hut. We had an understanding that we would knock at the door in a certain way and it was not to be opened for any other. I would wake in the night sweating with fear, fancying that I heard the Queen’s men in the courtyard. I was never at peace for one moment. Even during meals I would start up at the sound of horses’ hoofs.

“What ails you, Mother?” asked Linnet. “You jump at every sound.”

I had to be thankful that Jake was not at home, for I was sure it would have been impossible to hide Roberto if he had been.

Linnet was worried about me. She thought I was ill.

I wanted to tell my daughter that we were hiding her brother, but I dared not. I trusted her, but I was determined that she should not be involved.

We kept Roberto in the hut for two weeks. How we managed I cannot understand. Manuela was a creature of stealth. She had found a key to the hut; she locked Roberto inside it. There was a window high in the wall through which he could escape into a bush of overgrown shrubs if the need arose. Manuela thought of everything. She was a wonderful planner, and she worked zealously for Roberto.

Edwina brought the news that Throckmorton had been executed at Tyburn. He had been racked three times and had confessed that he had compiled the lists of English Catholics who would support the cause of the Queen of Scots, and plans he had made of English harbors had been found.

So Throckmorton was dead; and what of those whose names had been found on the list?

Walsingham was a man who worked in the shadows. If he knew a man was involved in plots he might not immediately arrest that man; he might have him watched in the hope that he could, through him, draw more into the net.

How could we be sure whether Roberto was one of Walsingham’s wanted men?

At least we had had no inquiries for him. It was some time since he had left his post and surely if they were suspicious of him the first place they would have looked for him was at his home.

He too realized this and he knew he must pass on.

One night when the household had retired Manuela and I went down to the stables. We saddled the strawberry roan and Roberto rode away on it.

In the morning the servants would say the animal had strayed off just as it had strayed in. That, at least, was what Manuela and I hoped.

“Take care, my son,” I said.

Some months after Roberto had left I awoke one morning to see a strange ship in the bay.

There was a little crowd on the Hoe watching the ship. They had never seen the like before. She was long and had but one sail and on this were strange signs. The ship appeared to be manned by numerous galley slaves.

“She’s an Arab,” was the verdict.

But someone said: “Nay she’s a Turk.”

I invariably went down when there was an excitement on the Hoe because I always hoped that I would hear news of Jake.

I watched the boats coming ashore and suddenly the miracle happened. I saw Jake. I stood for a moment staring at him. He returned my gaze and then it was as though thousands of voices were singing a triumphant anthem.

Jake has come home.

HE STOOD BEFORE ME … changed, yes changed. So lean had he become that he looked taller than ever; his hair was bleached almost white by long exposure; his face was deeply bronzed and more lined, but his eyes were as startlingly blue as ever.

I flew into his arms, a wild joy taking possession of me.

He held me for a long time; then he drew away from me and looked long and searchingly into my face.

“Still the same Cat,” he said.

“Oh, Jake,” I answered, “it has been such a long time.”

We went into the house. He looked at it wonderingly, touching the stone, marveling at it, loving it. Over the years how he must have dreamed of it, of our life here, of me!

“We have made no preparations to welcome you,” I began. “If we had known there would have been such a feast…”

“Have done,” he answered. “It is enough to be home.”

There was so much to talk of, so much to tell and it was only by degrees that I discovered the full story of what had happened to Jake during those long years.

I learned how they had encountered the Spaniards and that in pursuing one of the galleons Jake had left the rest of his group. The Spaniard had got away and the Rampant Lion had not escaped unscathed, and knowing that she could not undertake a long journey, Jake had been forced to look for some place where he might get her refitted. No easy task on a coast where the Spaniards might appear at any moment. Jake knew the Barbary Coast and it occurred to him that he might persuade or threaten the natives to help him refurbish his ship.

What a story it was of frustration, misery and hardship!

I could sense the force of the fury he had known when after leaving his ship and traveling some fifty miles inland he and his men were captured by a company of Spaniards.

Proud Jake, a captive in such hands! How that must have maddened him.

He did not tell the whole of the story at once. I pieced it together as I learned of incidents here and there. Over the years, I promised myself, I should discover more and more and in detail, the whole terrible story of what had kept him away all these years.

I heard snatches of how they had been chained and marched through the jungle, of the mosquitoes which tormented them and were responsible for the death of some, of the leeches which clung to their limbs when they tried to cool them in the streams. And worst of all was the knowledge that they were the slaves of their Spanish masters.

He must have spent two years in the jungle before they sailed for Spain. Jake was a prisoner with some thirty members of his crew who had so far survived. They knew what they were heading for … Spain and the Inquisition. There would be no leniency for a man whose main reason for sailing the seas was to rob and plunder Spaniards and to destroy them.

Fortunately for Jake perhaps—although it seems strange to say “fortunately” in such circumstances—in the Mediterranean, the galleon in which he was sailing encountered several Turkish pirate ships and in the skirmish the galleon was defeated; Jake and his men, who were chained in the hold of the Spanish ship, became the prisoners of the Turks.

My poor Jake, sold into slavery! There was one small piece of good fortune, though, because he and those of his crew who were taken with him were sent to the galleys and there they worked together, year in year out, pulling at the oars.

He had lost count of time, but always the determination stayed with him that one day he would escape. He impressed this on his men: One day they were going to return to England.