The Winding Stair (11 page)

‘I have to, don't I?'

‘Have I been unfair to you? I suppose I have. Leaving you so little time; so little choice. But what else could I do? You'll understand better when you hear them. They're deadly dangerous. Never for a minute forget that. Sometimes it's easy to forget, listening to them talk, on and on, about freedom, equality, the liberty Bonaparte is going to give them. Bonaparte! They're idealists, you see, most of them. That's what makes them so dangerous.'

‘But what do we have to do?'

‘We listen. After she has opened the great door, the Handmaiden withdraws to her own cell; she is supposed to know no more of what goes on. But James was a clever man, Juana. He arranged it, at first, merely as a precaution. He built a secret
opening, so that I could hear what went on in the main hall when he was away. Is your memory good?'

‘Reasonably.'

‘It had better be. The fate of Portugal may depend on it – and England's too. If these madmen let the French into Portugal, give them control of the Tagus, how long do you think England could last? But it's getting late. No time for more now. Tonight, you will do whatever I tell you, without question. Say nothing but what I tell you to say; try not even to think of what I have told you. If you can, try not to be afraid. Fear dulls the mind.'

‘I don't think I'm afraid. Not very.'

‘You'd be a fool if you weren't a little. I know I am when I go down there.'

‘Down?'

‘Yes. Down the winding stair.' She rose stiffly and moved over to the huge clothes-press at the side of the room. ‘Did you think me a sentimental fool to save my old dresses? Look! They make admirable cover.' She pushed the hanging clothes aside to reveal the wooden back of the press. ‘There. Press on that knot in the wood.'

The back of the cupboard swung open under Juana's hand to reveal a door in the wall, bolted on their side. Obeying orders, she slid back the bolt and pushed open the door. A dark chasm gaped before her and a dank smell of earth and rock rose up to mingle with the spicy scent of the closet.

‘Feel on the shelf high up on your right,' said Mrs. Brett. ‘You'll find tinder-box and candles. You must never use the ones from my room. Someone would notice, sooner or later. That's it.' If she saw Juana's hand shake as she lit the candle, she forbore to comment. ‘Luckily the air is quiet down there,' she went on, ‘but I always take the tinder-box with me, just in case. We must get you a black gown, with pockets. For tonight, give it to me, I will carry it, and the candle. Now, follow me, and not a word till I give you leave.'

At first the stairway was merely a dusty replica of the one by which Juana had reached her grandmother's rooms, but soon, when, she thought, they were level with the ground floor of the castle, they came to a second door, also bolted on their side.

‘There.' Mrs. Brett's voice echoed strangely as she closed it behind them. ‘Now we are clear of the castle. You can speak, but quietly.'

Peering into the blackness ahead of them, Juana had, for the moment, nothing to say. They were in some vast chamber of the rock and, in front of them, another flight of steps, guarded on each side by a rope, led straight down into the dark.

‘I'll go first.' Again Mrs. Brett's voice echoed hollow in the huge cavern. ‘It's quite easy. The steps are regular, you'll find, once you've got the feel of them. They built well, the Moors.'

‘The Moors?'

‘Yes. This stairway is as old as the oldest part of the castle. It leads down to the little harbour below us; the one the sardine boats use. That's the way the others come, by water. They can't get in till we have opened the gate for them. James took no chances when he made this into their meeting chamber.' And then: ‘Seventy-five, seventy-six-eighty steps in this flight. You
must remember to count them for yourself next time. There, it's flat now for a little way. They cut through the rock here.' She held up the candle to show Juana the entrance to a dark tunnel, then bent her head slightly and entered it.

Following, Juana felt the skirts of her cloak brush against the damp walls, then caught her breath in a near-shriek as something moved suddenly beside her.

‘Good girl.' Mrs. Brett's voice was reassuring. ‘It's only bats. I should have warned you. There, we're out again. Seventy-five steps this time.'

The dark journey seemed endless, but at last they reached a short flight that ended at a locked and bolted door. ‘Here.' Mrs. Brett handed Juana a huge key. ‘You must open it. You'll be alone next time. I could see they did not much like the idea of two of us, so I promised it would only be this once. Besides – I may not have the strength to come.'

‘I can't think how you have managed so long,' Juana turned the key in the heavy lock.

‘I managed because I had to. You will do the same. There: this is the Council Chamber. Light the candles, child.' She moved forward, the tiny flame of her candle merely emphasising the vast blackness of the cavern. Following, Juana saw a long table, with heavy brass candelabra set at intervals down it.

‘The acolytes change them after the meeting.' Mrs. Brett handed Juana a taper.

‘Does my voice sound as odd as yours?' Juana began lighting the big candles. There were forty-nine of them, she found, seven in each candlestick, but when she had lit them all they merely served to emphasise the huge darkness of the cavern.

‘You noticed? Yes – it's one of the great advantages of this as a meeting place. Something about the size of it makes voices unrecognisable. You could meet your own father down here, masked, and not know him. Now light the braziers, child.'

These stood in a rough outer circle around the huge table. They, too, were ready to be lit, and when Juana put her taper to the first one, it flared up at once.

‘They use resin, I think.' Mrs. Brett stood huddled over the first brazier as Juana lighted the others. It was deathly cold down here, and Juana could hear water dripping somewhere. No wonder Mrs. Brett was always unwell at the full of the moon; the miracle was that she had survived at all.

‘There's a brazier in my cell too.' The old lady might have read her thoughts. ‘James thought of everything. You'll see. This way, and don't let the taper go out.'

Carrying it carefully, Juana followed her down a path cut through the rough rocks that surrounded the candle-lit table. It led to another heavy wooden door in the rock wall. Unbolted, this revealed a small enclosed cavern furnished with another brazier and one chair.

Mrs. Brett sank on to this gratefully as Juana lit the brazier. ‘You'll have to sit on the ground tonight. Until they come. But, first, feel along the rock above the door and press where you find a rough place. There!'

As Juana obeyed, a section of what seemed virgin rock had slid aside, leaving an opening through which she could see the council table, with its candles burning steadily in the still cavern.

‘Now press again.' The rock slid together, silently. ‘James made that himself,' Mrs. Brett went on. ‘You must never open it until you hear the big doors clang shut. Then you count ten, slowly, to give the acolytes time to get to their places at the foot of the table, blow out your candle, and open it. It can't be seen from the table, so long as the cell is dark, but you must keep watch every minute it's open, for fear anyone should leave his seat. By the rules of the Order, no one should, still less should they enter this room. I am unknown to them, as they are to me. Only the way things are going now anything might happen. So keep good watch, child. Ah!' The sombre note of a gong had sounded from somewhere outside. ‘There are the acolytes now. Follow me; do as I do.'

She pulled the hood of her cloak close around her face, watched Juana do the same, picked up the candle and led the way back across the main cavern to a huge pair of doors that Juana had not noticed before. As she pushed back the heavy bolt, Juana could see that her thin old hands were shaking.

The bolt disengaged and invisible hands pulled the big doors outwards. Juana could see nothing but the flare of two torches, and behind them, blackness. But she could hear the sound of the sea, very near, crashing and roaring against the cliffs, and smell it salt in the cold air.

Beside her, Mrs. Brett spoke, her voice resonant, unrecognisable: ‘Who comes here?'

‘The Sons of the Star.' A man's voice from behind the right hand torch.

‘And why do you come?'

‘That we may gain wisdom, knowledge, power and peace.'

Mrs. Brett moved backwards and to one side. ‘Enter, Sons of the Star, and may your hearts' desire be granted.'

The two torch-bearers advanced into the big cavern and Juana saw that they were robed like black monks, their cowls pulled so well forward that nothing could be seen of their faces.

‘Is the council chamber prepared?' As the leader asked the question, the other shot the bolt in the big doors.

‘Search and see,' said Mrs. Brett and took Juana by the hand to lead her back to the table, where they stood side by side, motionless, clearly revealed in the light of the seven candelabra, watching the two black-robed figures search the cavern. They were very thorough about it. When one of them turned the key on the inside of the door that led up to the castle, and removed it, Juana felt a pang of pure terror, and, at the same moment, felt her grandmother's hand reassuringly on hers.

Now the two men had gone into the little cell, holding their torches high to search every corner of it. And again, admitting terror, Juana saw the leader remove the key from the lock before he returned to join them by the table.

‘All is prepared.' Like Mrs. Brett's, his voice echoed unrecognisably. ‘And yet all is not ready. Since you are two, who should be one, wait here, unworthy, to answer the question of the Star. And remember that to move or speak without leave in the presence of the Star is instant death.'

‘We will remember.' Mrs. Brett's hand was soothing on Juana's, but it was impossible to tell whether she had expected this.

‘Then all is prepared. Open the gates, and let the Sons of the Star come in.' As he spoke, he put one foot on a stool, one on the table and reached high with his torch to set light to a huge lantern, shaped like a seven-pointed star, that hung above the table.

The other man moved away down the hall, his torch casting strange shadows as he went, and unbolted and threw open the doors.

Juana heard the sound of the sea again and the scrape of feet on stone, then a procession of robed and cowled figures entered the cavern two by two and moved slowly toward the table. The
acolyte who had opened the door remained by it, while the other moved forward from the table to meet the procession. The right hand man of the first pair stopped and spoke. ‘Son of the Star, is our council chamber ready?'

‘Not yet, most excellent Star.' And suddenly, Juana was aware that the acolyte was almost as terrified as she. It was not a discovery likely to make her feel any better herself.

‘And why is it not ready?' The colloquial Portuguese told her that this was not part of the rehearsed formula, but an improvisation.

‘Most excellent Star; there are two here, where should be one. Unworthy though they be, I have detained them here to meet the question of the Star.'

‘You have done well, my son.' Juana thought the acolyte drooped with relief. ‘Let the intruders in our council chamber stand forward and explain themselves. One unworthy female under our sacred roof is too many; two are an insult to the Star.'

‘An insult, however, for which the Star should have been prepared.' Mrs. Brett took a step forward, and Juana did the same. ‘I explained at the last meeting that I could no longer carry on my duties and must arrange a substitute. And here she is. An unworthy female, perhaps, but prepared to go to some trouble to make your meetings possible. For the same reward, of course, as I have received all the years, and the same promise of immunity.'

‘How like a female to speak of rewards. To serve the Star is a privilege, woman, and one of which none of your sex is worthy.'

Juana felt her grandmother stiffen beside her, and was afraid, for a moment, of what she might say. But after a slight pause she spoke mildly enough. ‘A promise is a promise, most excellent Star, and this is an old one. I had thought the Sons of the Star prided themselves on their long memories.'

‘We do. As those who cross us find to their cost. But we waste precious time on you, woman. Tell me, Sons of the Star, is she right in what she claims? Did she make such a request at our last meeting, from which I was, unavoidably, absent?' And, it annoys him, thought Juana, to have to admit to being less than omniscient.

There was a murmur among the robed figures and then one stepped forward. ‘Yes, O Star. The female did, in fact, make such a request, and it was granted.'

‘And I was not informed! But we'll not discuss that now. Woman, by what right do you suggest this substitution?'

‘By the right of age and infirmity.'

‘And this, your substitute, do you vouch for her as you would for yourself? Your life for her life, if she fail or betray us?'

‘I do.'

‘And you?' He turned his cowled head towards Juana. ‘Do you realise what you are undertaking?'

‘I think so.' Her voice shook a little, but she hoped that the strange acoustics of the place masked it.

‘You promise that once a month, at the full of the moon, in sickness and in health, maimed or halt, at whatever cost to yourself, you will be here to throw open the gates of the Star?'

‘I promise.' She wished she was back in England.

‘And having opened the gates, you will retire to your own cell, as befits one of the inferior sex, and take no cognisance, not even in thought, of what goes on in this chamber?'

‘I promise.' Her voice was steadier this time, perhaps because she knew it was a lie.