The Lion Triumphant (37 page)

The summer came. Tenerife seemed a long way behind. I had settled in to life at Lyon Court. Soon Jake would go away on a voyage. He had postponed this because of our marriage and I knew he wished to be with me; but of course he could not stay ashore forever. I think sometimes he planned to take me with him, but I was pregnant and the sea was no place for a woman in my condition. He was a sailor who loved the sea and his ship was near to his heart as any living being I was sure, and yet he lingered on shore. I laughed at him. He could not leave me.

He could never shut out of his mind the memory of the raid which had taken place while he was away. He was afraid that it might happen again. He was torn between his desire for adventure on the high seas and his life with me.

Often I would see him down at the Hoe; he would be rowed out to his ship and spend some time on her. He finally decided that he could stay behind no longer.

A Captain Girling came to visit us from St. Austell—a man some twenty years older than Jake. He was a keen man, Jake told me, one of the few whom he cared to trust on one of his ships.

Captain Girling stayed with us for a month and he and Jake went out to the
Lion
every day; and there was a great deal of bustle on the Hoe while her stores were taken aboard. She was taking out a cargo of linen.

At dinner the conversation was generally of the sea and ships and I became increasingly knowledgeable in these matters, particularly as I had firsthand experience of two voyages. They used to question me at length about the galleon and I could never resist praising her and pointing out her superiority over the
Rampant Lion
and English ships I had seen, which exasperated and intrigued them.

Captain Girling was as fierce in his denunciation of the Dons and Catholicism as Jake was and they were at one on this as on most matters.

They hated the Inquisition, which had seized a number of English sailors, submitted them to torture and even burned them at the stake. John Gregory was an example of a man who had been captured and only freed on condition that he spy for them. Oddly enough Jake seemed to have forgiven him although he had helped in carrying me off in the first place. He had, however, made it possible for Jake to bring me back.

“There’s good news from the Netherlands,” said Captain Girling. “There’s a rising there and by all accounts it’s a success. The Spaniards had set up the Inquisition there, and because of this the country is in revolt. By God, the sooner we blow them all off the seas, the better.”

Jake regarded me with some amusement. “I’d slit the throat of any Spaniard on sight … no matter who.”

“Throat slitting’s too good for them,” growled Captain Girling.

And I trembled for Roberto, who looked more like his father every day.

“If ever they attempt to come to England …” began Captain Girling.

Jake’s face was purple at the thought, yet his eyes shone with excitement.

“That would be the day!” he cried. “We’d see them finished off forever then. Why, Girling, do you think there’s a possibility the rascals would be so foolhardy as to try it?”

“Who can say? You know they’ve taken possession of lands all over the globe. They’re taking the rack and the thumbscrews among the savages and trying to make Papists of them.”

“Let them come here!” cried Jake. “Oh, God, let them come here. Let them bring their thumbscrews here. We’ll show them how to use them.”

“They fear us … they respect us. They prefer to play with savages,” Girling said.

“I swear they shall continue to fear us. When they meet one of my ships on the high seas they’ll show some respect too.”

“You talk much of what you will do if certain things happen,” I said. “We know exactly how they would act and how you would. But why should they come here? What hope would they have?”

“They would build a fleet of ships. They would come to our coasts. They would attempt to land,” said Jake. “Let them try it. Oh, God, let them try it.”

“There are traitors here,” said Captain Girling. “We must beware of the traitors within.”

“Plaguey Papists,” said Jake. “And now with this Queen above the Border! The Queen of Scots, recently Queen of France, could lead an army into England if she could find the support from traitors here on land and the King of Spain from the sea.”

“War!” I said. “Oh, I pray not war.”

“There are continual forages on the Border,” said Girling. “Our Sovereign Lady Elizabeth is shrewd. She seeks to cause friction among the Scottish nobles and, by God, they are a quarrelsome crowd. ’Tis said that she herself did all possible to further the marriage of the Scottish Queen with Lord Darnley, while pretending to oppose it. That fellow is no good to Mary. He’s a swaggering braggart, a lecher, a coward, and he greatly desires the Crown Matrimonial of Scotland. If the Queen of Scots is wise she’ll keep him in his place, which is not on the throne with her.”

“While I have been away,” I said, “the situation has become grave between England and Scotland.”

“It was so since Mary’s husband, the young King of France, died and she lost her position overnight,” said Captain Girling. “The Medici woman made it clear that she must get out and where could she go but to her own country of Scotland?”

“Let us not forget,” added Jake, “that she dared call herself the Queen of England. Our Lady Elizabeth will not forget that, I am sure.”

“For that alone she deserves to have her head cut off.”

“Mary’s point is that our Queen is the daughter of Anne Boleyn, whom the Catholics call a whore because they say she was never in truth King Henry’s wife, whereas Mary herself is descended legitimately through Henry’s sister.” I reminded him.

Jake threw me a warning glance. “You talk like a Papist.” He narrowed his eyes. “And let me tell you, I’ll have no Papist in this house. If I find any it will be the worse for them.”

I knew he was referring to Roberto, for he had been watchful of the boy. I trembled for my son, but I replied boldly: “I speak without religious bias. I merely state that this is the case.”

“Our Lady Elizabeth is Queen by right of inheritance, a true daughter of King Henry,” retorted Jake, “and we’ll fight for her. There is no Englishman worthy of the name who would not give his life for her—and keep the Papists from the land.”

We drank the Queen’s health—I as fervently as the others.

But I was uneasy. There would always be disquiet in the land I supposed. There would always be this conflict; and when I thought of the quiet determination and religious fervor of Felipe and those whom he commanded, and the might of the Spanish galleons, I feared the breaking out of a mighty conflagration.

In the night I awoke and Jake stirred beside me.

He said: “You know why I’ve sent for Girling?”

“He is going to command one of your ships, I doubt not.”

“Which ship think you?”

“That I cannot know.”

“The
Rampant Lion.”

“Your
ship?”

“Well, she is lying idle there in the Hoe.”

“I did not know that you allowed others to command her.”

“Nor have I till now.”

“But why so?”

“Need you ask? I have found a more desirable mistress than adventure. She is as unreliable as the sea, but by God, she can be whipped to sudden fury; she can be soft sometimes—though she tries to hide it. There are times when I am at the helm and she is as soft and gentle as any could wish—but I can never be sure of her.”

“Your fancies are beyond your imaginative powers to express. I should not attempt them if I were you.”

He laughed. “Know this. I am letting Girling take the
Lion.
It’s a short voyage. And when he comes back I shall go away. I would take you with me, Cat. You and the boy. But he’d be too small, wouldn’t he? Who knows what we might meet on the seas? Here’s a problem. If I leave you I shall dream every night, and in the day too, of Spaniards raiding the coast. If I take you with me… How could I take you with me?”

I said: “You will have to go as other men go.”

“What a reunion it’ll be when I come back. You’ll be on the shore waiting for me. No games, my love, while I’m away.”

“Do you imagine everyone is like you? I wonder how many games
you
will play on your voyage?”

“You must not be jealous, Cat. I am a man who must needs game. But there will only be one for whom I truly care and for her I would cast aside all others.”

“Do not deprive yourself,” I said. “Game all you wish.”

“Nay, you would be jealous, but we have to part in time. I am a sailor. For the first time I almost wish I were not. See how I love you. I love you so much that I give Girling command of my ship that I may stay with you.”

I was silent being moved by such a declaration. For the first time I felt a certain tenderness toward him.

Girling had sailed away. Poor Jake, he stood watching until she was out of sight—his love, his ship, his
Rampant Lion.

He said: “It is like seeing another man with your woman.” He was moody for a day or so, wondering why he had allowed Girling to go in his place. He busied himself with the comings and goings of others of his ships, but there was only one
Lion.

He would follow the voyage in his mind, studying charts and working out where the ship would be. He would say: “If the winds have been favorable, if she has not been becalmed, if she has not met up with any with whom it has been necessary to do battle she will be here.”

At times he wished he were with her. At others he was clearly delighted to be at home. In the midst of some of our battles he would say: “To think I gave up a lion for a shrew.”

But there were the moments of deep satisfaction. I began to be satisfied with my life. Was this again the serenity of pregnancy? Perhaps it was. My mother sent a messenger to me fairly frequently with letters.

“If only you were not so far away,” she mourned. “How I long to be with you at this time.”

My grandmother sent recipes and even concoctions she had prepared. After having been so far away we seemed moderately close now in spite of the miles which separated us.

The months began to pass. My child was due in February.

Jake was beside himself with glee. He visualized the sturdy son we should have. He continued to despise Roberto, but Carlos and Jacko never ceased to delight him. They were growing wilder and more untamable every day. They rode, went hunting with Jake and studied archery and fencing. They played truant from the tutor whom I had engaged to teach them, which amused Jake.

He had done it all before. Anything they did which reminded him of his own exploits was applauded and they knew this. My Roberto was clever in the classroom, a fact which made me rejoice, for it gave him this advantage at least. I kept him away from Jake as much as possible and often arranged that they did not come into contact for weeks at a time, a fact which pleased them both so it was not very difficult to maneuver.

“The boy should be here when the
Lion
returns,” said Jake. “We’ll call him Lion.”

“There is no such name,” I said.

“We’ll make one.”

“Would you saddle the boy with such a name? He will be laughed at throughout his life.”

“Much he’ll care.”

“As a compromise we’ll call him Penn after your father.”

Christmas came and with it the messenger from the Abbey bringing gifts but most welcome of all letters. Honey was happy at the Abbey. Edwina was well. “How peaceful it all is, Catharine,” she wrote. “Tenerife seems far away.”

And Luis? I wondered. Did Honey ever think of the two husbands who had been murdered—one before her eyes? I myself could not forget the sight of Felipe lying in his blood, slain by the man who was my second husband. I missed his courtesy; sometimes I found myself comparing Jake with him.

We lived in violent times and life was cheap. Men such as Jake Pennlyon thought little of running a man through the heart. I trembled to think of the slaughter there would be when the
Rampant Lion
met a Spanish galleon on the sea.

This hatred of men for men, when would it end? I hoped that by the time my little Roberto was a man it would be over.

It was the end of January when the
Rampant Lion
came home. It had been a bleak month with cold winds blowing in from the east. Then it had turned warm and with the warmth came the inevitable rain. There was a heavy mist and out of this suddenly there loomed the ship. She was dangerously near the shore and the mist clung eerily to her masts; Jake at the window saw her first.

“God’s Death!” he cried and stared at her.

I looked at him and saw that his deep color had faded.

“What’s wrong?” I cried.

“God’s Death!” he cried. “What have they done to the
Lion?”

Then he was out of the house. He was running down to the Hoe. I followed him. I stood on the shore watching the small boat row out to the shattered ship.

What a day that was! I shall never forget the dampness of the mist and that still, almost lakelike sea. And there she was, his beloved ship, with one of her masts shot off and a hole in her side.

It was a mercy she had managed to limp back to the Hoe.

I saw the faces of men, blackened by sun, gaunt from near starvation and many of them wounded.

There was little I could do.

I felt tender toward Jake as I saw the bleak horror in his face. He loved this ship and she had been ill-treated.

I knew then how he must have looked when he came back from his voyage to find that the Spaniards had taken me.

It was an old story. The ship had encountered a mightier one. There was no need to say that that ship had been a Spaniard.

She had sought to take her, but by mercy that had not happened. The
Rampant Lion
had suffered almost mortal wounds, but she had given a good account of herself. She had inflicted such deadly havoc on her enemy that the Spaniard had had to limp away, thus enabling the
Lion
to do likewise.

Captain Girling had been fatally wounded, but he had lived for four days after the attack. He had nobly directed his crew from the pallet which he had had brought on deck. He had known he was dying, but his great concern had been to bring the poor wounded
Lion
back to her master. Only when he knew that could be done did he die.