CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The large estuary of the Tagus River was alive with activity when they arrived at the harbor of Lisbon. Disembarking the troops and getting them into camp and seeing to their needs took fully three days. García took pains to see that Jesus found Doria quarters in the city, distanced from the camp. He also was careful to keep the two cadets billeted with him.
After reporting to the Presidio, García bumped into an old acquaintance, Doña María Botella.
“What a surprise, Doña María. What brings you to Lisbon?”
“You’re late. I thought you’d be here a week ago.”
“What’s this? You knew of my return?”
“Of course. I planned it. Why do you think you were assigned to La Anunciada?”
“Chance, I guess.”
“Chance? No. I have considerable influence in Spain. Far more than that silly ass father of Juanita. By the way, her indiscretions were revealed and he sent her off to a nunnery.”
A look of disbelief, then a broad smile. “Juanita in a convent. It’s hard to believe.”
“There’s also a rumor that she might be with child.”
García almost cringed, but managed a reply. “She seemed to be taken with one of my cadets, the one called Francisco. But it’s hard to believe she’s pregnant.”
“There seems to be a lot of things going on that are hard to believe. I’ll have another surprise for you tomorrow, but it’s better that we get together in private. I have rooms at the Le Freire. Be there at three. We’ll drink a little port.”
García was happy to agree. It had been some time since he had shared fellowship with this lovely strong willed woman. But before they parted, he said, “I still can’t believe Juanita’s in a convent, although it serves her right. But can’t she escape?”
“Escape to what? Live on the streets? The novitiates are watched carefully during their work and study by day. At night they are locked in their cells. Believe it, Juanita is married to the church.”
“She did have a strong attraction to Francisco.”
Doña María smiled. “There are many strange attractions these days. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have much to talk about.”
As always, García was puzzled and fascinated by this forceful woman. He plunged himself back into the chaos of getting supplies for his troops, seeing to their general welfare and meeting others who would soon depart to crush the English heretics and thus guarantee the flow of gold and silver to Spain. That night he attended a requiem mass arranged by the priests for the men they had lost. Two had died of disease during the voyage home and a third was missing, doubtless fallen or thrown over the side.
During this time he was visited by a black-garbed man of youngish years. Not tall, but not short, with black piercing eyes and heavy brows. His hands seemed constantly in motion, reminding García of fluttering birds. He identified himself as Jose Juarez, an Inquisitor.
Young, old, or in between, an Inquisitor was always something to be reckoned with. “And to what do I owe this honor?” García asked.
“Do you know a certain Lieutenant Hidalgo?”
“Of course. He accompanied me from the north. I served with him. I know him well.”
“Then you might be aware of certain heretical tendencies on his part.”
“Not at all. He seems a good Catholic and a servant of the King, an officer of the King.”
“That could be part of the problem,” Juarez said. “He springs from vulgar roots, yet he is an officer. The men look up to him as an example. Such a person, if heretic, can sour the barrel. Many of the troopers are scum, slime, from the sink pits of humanity and already false ideas dance before them.”
“Has someone denounced Hidalgo? If so, who might that be?”
“Certain things have come to the attention of my Prior, and he has authorized me to track down this Hidalgo and have a formal hearing. It is my job to hunt down the beasts who would destroy the Lord’s vineyard. It seems that this Hidalgo was once overheard to say, ‘I believe because it is absurd.’”
García almost smiled, but remained simply puzzled. Hidalgo was no more or less religious than most other officers. “I’m sorry, Father Juarez, but I’ve never heard Hidalgo utter a heretical statement.”
“These sowers of discord, they can be quite subtle, a word, a wink of the eye, who knows when a sheep will go astray. And an officer is skilled at setting an erroneous example. I am a defender of the cross, and it is my duty to try to see into the minds and hearts of those suspected of heresy.”
“A difficult task,” García said. “Hearts and minds have few windows.”
“I am not without training. We can be as subtle as the bold deceiver. I suppose Hidalgo is without an estate.”
“Sad, but true. He is a poor man, but a good soldier, advanced due to his leadership and valor.”
“There are valorous heretics, and the Church doesn’t always seek to confiscate estates. Yet if we do come across a wealthy heretic, so much the better. But they seem to be running on the poor side of late.”
“Perhaps the rich have influence,” García suggested.
“If you are hinting that I or others would seek bribes in our quest for truth, that in itself might be considered heretical.”
“No such thought crossed my head, Father. By influence I meant they had done noble acts that might discourage a careful examination of some loose remarks they may have made. But let me get to the heart of this matter. Lieutenant Hidalgo is no longer under my command. So you must seek him elsewhere.”
“My Prior has ordered me to seek out this man wherever he might be, and I must obey. So, if you will tell me where he is, there I shall go.”
“That might be difficult. There are remote postings.”
“I follow the orders of the Church. And I will ferret this man out and hold a formal hearing with a scribe present.”
“I might be able to arrange transportation for you. I’ve heard that some messages and possibly supplies are about to be sent off to his command. If true, you would be leaving the day after tomorrow. Would that be satisfactory?”
“Of course. The sooner the better.” García left it at that. He was glad the Inquisitor had not asked Hidalgo’s location. Let it be a surprise. But he had told the padre to bring along his traveling bag and the scribe, if there was one.
With the Inquisitor on hold, he was at Doña María’s hotel promptly at three. The clerk told him he was expected, and to go on up. He knocked, and the door was opened by a young soldier. García did a double take, then a triple take. He was looking at Doña María in the beautifully tailored uniform of a Spanish cadet.
She smiled and snapped to attention. “Greetings, captain.”
“What’s with the costume?” He noticed that her hair had been close cropped. Her beautiful hair, he was momentarily stunned. She made a splendid young man.
“I am your newest cadet. Ready to enter the fray with the English heretics. May God save the King of Spain.”
“And may God send women home to their cook stoves and sewing. Women are not candidates for the cadet corps.”
Doña María relaxed, walked to the table and poured them each a glass of port. “Sit down and drink this. You know the dons and grandees of Spain are packing fine dishes and other household items to use, not on shipboard, but afterward when they have defeated the English and hold sway over that wretched rabble. But women are left behind. So to be in on the flush of victory, there go I. With your help, of course.”
García tossed off his small glass and stretched out his arm out for more. She obliged. “I must tell you, Doña María, that we are going into battle. Smoke, gunfire, boarding parties, death and destruction. With the help of God, we will prevail. But there is no guarantee. The opposite could be true.”
“Your talk would be treasonous if it reached the proper circles. Of course we will win. King Felipe has assembled the greatest Armada and has massed the greatest army ever. Victory is ours. The troops in Flanders under th
e Duke of Parma are waiting for our convoy. We will roll over them.” She held up her glass in a triumphant gesture and drank it down. García too drank.
“Perhaps. But still I cannot have a woman in my command. You would be found out and my motives would be at hazard.”
“If we were found out, both our motives would be in peril. But your sergeant, this Jesus who you place so much stock in, his wife will go and her background is a matter of question.”
“You were at her party.”
“That’s true and so were many others. For a whore she has some social standing. And through her I have met Jesus. And there was a time in Madrid when Jesus needed funds to repay a tavern owner. There had been a misunderstanding.”
So that was it. Jesus had talked to Doña María. First about Doria, or Francisco, then about Jose. Or had he? Maybe she had guessed. “If you were a cadet you would have to bunk in with two other cadets, both young men. Now they would find you out. And the game would be up.”
“But they are loyal to you, Don Pedro.”
“Well, perhaps. But think of the propriety of your sleeping with two young men.”
“It really doesn’t sound too bad. I have seen them and they are a handsome pair. It’s almost as if you picked them for their youth and good features.”
“I assure you, if the choice had been mine, I would have no cadets, helpful as they are. And they do have a function.”
“I too will have a function, Don Pedro. So let the charade end. I know they are girls and we will be three women together, three cadets. The voyage to England isn’t that long and you will lead your troops into battle with me at your side. What a glorious adventure it will be for the two of us. Something we will remember in the years ahead.”
So she knew. “That son-of-a-bitch Jesus. Sold me out for a few pieces of silver. That Judas. That bastard!”
“More like gold, Don Pedro. You’re over a barrel and you’re stuck with me. So now that you’ve seen my finery, I’ll remove the uniform. I suggest you do likewise so we can spend a few hours undercover. This wrapping of the breasts to look mannish can be confining.”
Later they had dinner in the hotel room and García stayed the night, rolling out in time to reveille roll call the following day. They had agreed that Doña María would join them on the day of departure. Till then they would remain apart.