The Lion Triumphant (43 page)

I could never forget Jake. I dreamed of him often and when I awoke and found he was not beside me that overwhelming emptiness would sweep over me.

On a November day in the year 1580, Francis Drake sailed into the harbor.

What excitement there was! He had brought with him a marvelous quantity of treasure such as none had ever brought before. There was gold and silver, precious stones, and pearls as well as silks, cloves and spices.

He had also brought back Carlos and Jacko.

How they had changed! They were men now—experienced sailors.

The first one they looked for when they stepped ashore was their father. I shook my head sadly, but he was uppermost in our thoughts during the celebrations for their homecoming. We were all so much aware of the missing head of the house—even Linnet, who could scarcely remember him.

Carlos and Jacko talked a great deal of their adventures. There had been storm and calm; they had visited strange lands and come near to death. They had grown up and the sea was in their blood.

The expedition would be remembered throughout the years to come because although Drake was not the first man to discover that the Earth was a sphere, he had actually been the first to encircle it, whereas Magellan, who had known this was possible, had been prevented from completing the circle by his death in the Philippines.

Drake was the great hero of the West Country and very soon after his return he sailed the
Golden Hind
up the Thames and there at Deptford the Queen herself came to knight him.

Such men as Drake, Carlos and Jacko had become the heroes of our time because they would be the leaders when the time came to face the Spaniards.

Jake Pennlyon was such a man.

He had now been away so long that it was only because he was Jake that I could continue to hope. Carlos, Jacko, Jennet, everyone who had known him intimately, refused to believe that he was dead. Such was that magic aura he had always conveyed to us.

Sometimes I used to open the cupboard in which his clothes were kept and touch the cloth of a coat. Then I would imagine I heard his laughter. “Don’t dispose of them, Cat. I’ll need them yet.”

Once I opened a drawer and a moth flew out. I was concerned at once. I must care for his clothes and I did not want anyone else to do this. I decided I would therefore take them out, fold them afresh and put among them a powder made from herbs which my grandmother had given me and which she was convinced would preserve cloth forever against moth and insects.

It was then that I made the horrifying discovery. In the pocket of one of his jackets was a figure. As my fingers closed around it I was transported back in my mind to that occasion when I had found the image of Isabella in my drawer.

There was no doubt who this was meant to be. Myself! I could see the pinhead, a little rusty—where it had entered the cloth of my gown.

And in Jake’s pocket!

It could not be. I remembered how on more than one occasion he had raged against witches. But why? Because he believed in the evil they could create, because he believed that could kill, because he feared them?

And why should this image be in his pocket?

I studied it. The likeness was there. My thick straight hair, and the eyes were painted a vivid green. There could be no doubt who it was meant to be.

Had he consulted a witch? Had he been carrying out her orders? Not Jake! Yet this thing was in his pocket. It must have been lying there for years. Why had he left it there and gone away? Had he hoped that when he came back the witch’s work would be done?

I was going to destroy that figure.

I put it into the pocket of my gown and went out into the garden. There was a hut on the outskirts of the grounds. Few people went there. I buried the doll beneath some braken and set it alight. The grass was dry, as was the braken, and I had not thought there would be such a blaze. As the wax of the image spluttered, Jennet and Manuela, who must have seen the smoke, came running out to the hut.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Only a small fire.”

“How did it happen?” asked Jennet. I did not answer.

As the fire died down Jennet stamped on the last of it.

Manuela knelt down and picked up a piece of charred cloth. It was the piece with the pin sticking in it.

“People should be careful of fire,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “The ground is very dry just now.”

Carlos and Edwina were attracted from the moment they met and two months after the return of Drake’s expedition Edwina came to the Court and said she had something to tell me.

She and Carlos wanted to marry.

“You have known each other such a short time,” I said.

“It is long enough,” she answered. “And he is a sailor and sailors have no time to waste.”

I had heard that before, I thought with a smile.

“You see, Aunt Catharine, although we have only just met, we must have known each other years ago. We were together as babies.

It is interesting that we were both born far across the sea … both in the same place and it seems like fate that we were brought together.”

“Everything in life is fate.”

“But the manner in which we were brought together! Your being taken away with my mother and there was Carlos … and you found him and brought him to the Hacienda. My mother has told me about it.”

“Are you sure that you love Carlos?”

“Oh, Aunt Catharine, there could be no doubt.”

“It isn’t easy to be a sailor’s wife. There will be long periods when he is away and one day perhaps…”

I could not go on and she put her arms about me.

“Carlos’ father will come back,” she soothed. “Carlos is sure of it.”

“And I am too,” I said vehemently. “I know that one day I shall look from my window and his ship will be in the bay. But, oh, how the years go on … and no news … no news…”

There were tears in her eyes. Her love for Carlos made her understand my tragedy.

Manuela came to my room. Her great mournful eyes glowed with fear as they rested on me.

“Señora, I must speak with you.”

“What do you wish to say, Manuela?”

“There was wax. It was an image. There was what was left of the gown and I have the pin here.” She laid it on the table before me. “It was pierced here.” She touched her left side. “It was meant to go through the heart. It must have been like the image that was made of Doña Isabella. Such images are the same throughout the world. Witches are everywhere … they work together in the same way.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Someone burned that. They were burning the one who was represented by the image.”

“I burned that image, Manuela.”

“You, Señora! You wish someone dead!”

“That image was made to look like me. I found it in … I found it. I will not have such things in this house so I burned it.”

“But, Señora, someone made an image of Isabella and she died…”

“I don’t believe in such nonsense.”

She shook her head at me sadly.

When she had gone, I asked myself: Was I speaking the truth? How much did I believe? I remembered how I had been sent to Mary Lee’s house and how I knew someone had been in the bedroom, for I had seen the door close, and then I had discovered that my bed curtains were ablaze. I had found the image among Jake’s clothes, and since he had gone away there had been no more strange attempts on my life.

Was it possible that he had attempted to be rid of me and when he had failed had gone away, temporarily abandoning his plans until his return? I would not believe such nonsense. And yet … the suspicion was sown and it often came into my mind.

There was to be a wedding at Trewynd.

Edwina was very excited naturally. “My mother is coming,” she said. “My stepfather was not going to accompany her, but I have written saying that he must. It is after all my wedding.”

I thought then: I shall see Carey. After all these years, I wonder what my emotions will be.

At Trewynd the Ennises were preparing for the wedding. Everywhere there was the odor of burning rosemary and bay leaves to sweeten the place; I ordered that the same should be done at Lyon Court, for although our rushes were replaced regularly it was always necessary to sweeten the place at intervals. We did this at the Court by moving to different parts of the house while others were being sweetened and with so many guests coming we needed to sweeten all through. I was glad of the knowledge of herbs which I had gleaned through my grandmother in the old days and I was able to add all kinds of aromatic herbs to our sweetening.

It was an exciting day when the party arrived. They had been traveling together for safety. My mother and Rupert would stay with me, Honey, Carey and their children at Trewynd.

It was wonderful to see my mother. She had aged a little, but there was such a look of serenity about her and Rupert as to tell me that they enjoyed a happy life together.

Sooner or later I must inevitably meet Carey and I did so first in the great hall of Trewynd where he stood with Honey. The years had not marred her beauty. Her kind was indestructible. The violet eyes might have been more shadowed, but they were as luminous as ever and I realized at once that because she was fulfilled as she had never been before, and was a contented and happy woman, a new quality mingled with her beauty and added something to it.

Such meetings were necessarily emotional. I kissed her warmly and all the time I was conscious of Carey standing there. Then my hands were in his, his cheek laid against mine. I felt the firm pressure of his hands.

“Catharine!”

“Why, Carey … it is so many years.”

“You have changed very little.”

He had changed a good deal. There was something haggard about the lean face which I had once loved so well and remembered through the years. I wondered whether I would have recognized him had I not known who he was.

We talked about the journey, what was happening at home and the pleasure this marriage gave them.

It was easy and passed smoothly and I could not have believed that I could have shown so little emotion on my meeting with Carey.

It was different when we met alone in the pond garden.

There we could speak freely.

“Oh, Catharine,” he said. “I have thought of you often.”

“And I of you,” I told him.”

“There was nothing to do but part.”

I shook my head.

“I wanted to die,” he said.

“I too. But we lived.”

“Well, we made a life for ourselves,” he said. “When I heard that you had been abducted by the Spaniards I cursed myself for not being with you … for not having defied everyone and everything.”

“It is long ago. And you are happy … with Honey?”

His face softened. “I never thought to be so happy since I lost you.”

“She loved you always.”

“Yes, she has told me. I have my compensation and you have your children.”

“And Jake too, Carey. He will come back. I know he will.”

The wedding was celebrated. Carlos went to live at Trewynd and the Ennises left with my mother and Carey and Honey.

I helped the newly married pair settle in.

I was glad of the way everything had turned out. I had seen Carey again, not without some emotion, yet I was certain now that it was Jake I wanted.

I had loved Carey; I had loved Felipe. I had lost them both. Jake was different. He was part of me. To be without Jake was like being but half alive.

That was why I had to go on believing that he would come back.

It was late February. Carlos was at sea and Edwina had spent Christmas with us. We had decorated the house with holly and ivy; we had played our games. Time was passing. Linnet was now nearly fourteen years old and I had passed my fortieth birthday.

Poor Edwina longed for children, but so far there was no sign of them; I was deeply affected by the manner in which her eyes so often strayed to the horizon; she was dreaming of the day when a ship would appear and Carlos would come home to her.

Over the years the activity at sea had increased greatly. There were six or seven ships to every one there had been in the old days. There were prizes and honors to be won at sea. The name Sir Francis Drake was on every lip. He had won riches and honors—not only for himself but the country. There were laughing references to the fear of the Spaniards for El Draque. They thought he was some mighty god—or the Devil—and they lived in daily dread of him.

One day Edwina came over to Lyon Court as she did so often. She said that friends of Carey’s had called on their way to their country estates in Cornwall and had stayed a night at Trewynd. They had brought news from London.

There had been another plot which might well have succeeded; and if it had, said Edwina, we might have had a new Queen on the throne.

“That could never be,” I said. “The people are firmly behind Our Sovereign Lady, Elizabeth.”

“Nevertheless the Spanish ambassador has been dismissed from the Court. He is returning to Spain without delay. Francis Throckmorton has been arrested and is now in the Tower.”

I said: “There have been these plots ever since the Queen of Scots came to England.”

“And there will be, some say, until her death. It is a wonder the Queen does not sanction it. Mary is in her power and one hears that the Queen’s ministers constantly advise it, yet she holds off.”

That visit of Edwina’s disturbed my peace of mind.

It was June and the gardens were full of damask roses, which I loved particularly because they reminded me of my mother. Mayflies danced over the pond in the garden and there were pyramids of loosestrife by the streams; purple nettles abounded in the hedges mingling with roses; and on the air was the scent of honeysuckle.

The weather was exceptionally calm which created a stillness everywhere as though nature were waiting for something dramatic to happen.

Soon, I thought, Jake must come home. It is on a day like this that I shall look from my window and see the
Rampant Lion
on the horizon.

The night came and I sat at my window, as I often did, looking out to sea; I was restless that night; it was almost like a premonition, for as I sat at my window I heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs in the distance, then coming nearer and nearer. I could see nothing and suddenly the sound ceased. I wondered who was riding by at this hour and as I sat at my window I saw the figure below, stealthily creeping across the courtyard.