Summer, 1506
Ronzal, Aragón
Elena
It was the hour before dawn. The revelers were sprawled near the smoldering ruins of the bonfire, sleeping. The golden dogs lay silent and watchful nearby, alert to the sounds and scents that only animals perceive. Elena and Arnaud lay under a blanket made of several fleeces stitched together. They stared up at the moon while Arnaud spoke in a low voice, telling the story of what had happened since they last met.
Elena took it all in silently. After a while, Arnaud’s voice trailed off. She wondered if he was asleep. Glancing at him, she saw moonlight glinting off his eyes, the sweep of his dark lashes when he blinked.
She sighed. “In the space of a year, you and Mira have survived more than most people do in a lifetime.”
“And I haven’t told you everything,” Arnaud said, lacing his fingers under his head. “Only the most important bits.”
“I can’t make sense of those Sacazars. Carlo proved his worth to you many times over, but what of his sister, the Abbess Amadina?”
Arnaud hesitated. “Mira’s never trusted the woman, you know that much. Amadina Sacazar is known for her foul temper, harsh to her servants and the nuns in her convent, but I never put much stock in Mira’s fears—I suppose because Carlo was such a good man. How could two siblings be opposite sides of the same coin? One bent on kindness, the other on cruelty?”
Elena smiled into the darkness. If only you knew, she thought. It is all too easy for siblings to be nothing alike.
“I used to say ‘blood does tell,’ but life has taught me otherwise,” she replied. “I’m wiser now.”
An owl hooted somewhere in the forest near the meadow.
“There’s many in Nay who fear Amadina Sacazar now that she’s got control of her brother’s fortune and his businesses,” Arnaud went on. “Carlo, he never abused his power. By all accounts, his sister relishes doing so.”
“Does Belarac still sell its wool in Nay?”
“Yes, there’s nothing Amadina can do to stop that, though she sees Belarac as a rival,” he said. “She sends her spies to inquire about Belarac’s wool prices at the summer markets, marks hers down lower, and then has her servants hawk her goods outside Belarac’s stall.”
“That’s rude, but she’s not the first to use such tactics,” Elena pointed out.
“True. What I did see with my own eyes, though, was worse. When Mira and I went to help at Belarac last summer, the looms were broken—and not because of wear and tear or faulty construction.”
“You built those looms, if I remember rightly.”
“All but one,” he said. “When I inspected them, I saw someone had pried off the batten adjusters with force. And the nuns who were charged with cleaning and oiling them were women sent there by Amadina Sacazar from her own convent when Mother Béatrice first started her wool business. They’d expressly asked for the task.”
“That’s worrisome,” Elena declared.
“I thought the same, so I looked into the matter a bit. I learned that Amadina Sacazar once held a contract with a wool merchant in Toulouse—the same man Béatrice signed an agreement with not long before she died. It was Lord de Vernier, the one Mira worked for as governess last winter. Turns out he broke his contract with Amadina to make one with Béatrice.”
“Then maybe this is more than rivalry for her,” Elena reasoned. “Maybe she wants revenge on Belarac.”
She turned to face Arnaud again. His face was ghostly pale in the moonlight.
“Mira’s not alone with the baby, is she?”
“We’ve befriended a Basque couple, Nekane and Abarran. The husband is a cod fisherman and whale hunter. The wife took Mira under her wing as soon as we moved into the building where we all lodge. When Abarran went to sea, Nekane stayed with Mira to keep her and the baby company—and to save us all silver.”
“And what of art? Is Mira at work again?” Elena yawned. Sleep was coming for her, but she pushed it away.
“She’s tried. Gone to the doorsteps of merchants, looking for patrons, too many times to count.” Arnaud sighed. “But no one knows her in Bayonne. She’s got no recommendation in hand, not like I had from Carlo Sacazar.”
“She’ll find something,” Elena said with conviction. “She won’t give up.”
“It’s hard with the baby, and now with me gone—she doesn’t like to leave him. Nor do I like her leaving him.”
“But this Nekane—you trust her?”
“We do. Still, how much trust do you put in someone you’ve only known a season?”
There was a tremor of anxiety in his voice. Elena realized how difficult it had been for him to leave Mira and the baby.
“The sooner I get back there, the sooner we can all settle into our life, and Mira can find work again,” he said. “I spoke my piece at the meeting yesterday, and all the elders are in agreement about our plan for shipping oak west to Bayonne down the River Pau. I’ve done what I came to do. I’ll leave in a few days.”
“Me, too.” Elena’s mood shifted at the prospect of departing. “I’m bound to return to Castle Oto, then leave for Basque country and my wedding.”
“What?” Arnaud sat up in surprise.
“I’m marrying Xabi, if he’s still alive—and if he’ll still have me. And I’ll live in a house with a red-tiled roof and listen to his siblings argue for the rest of my days.”
Arnaud chuckled quietly. Overhead the sky was brightening, the moon’s brilliance fading with each passing moment.
“What is funny?” she demanded.
“You, married? Living on a farm in Basque country? I’ll believe that when I see it,” he spluttered, unable to contain his laughter.
“Then see for yourself,” she challenged him. “Bring Mira and the baby to our wedding. But I must warn you that Pelegrín wishes to be there.”
Arnaud lay back again. “In that case, we’ll stay away, I’m afraid.”
“I spent the winter listening to the man moan about wanting to welcome his twin back to the family again. He doesn’t wish Mira ill, Arnaud. I worried about that for a long time, same as you, but now I’m convinced: he’s not the man his father was.”
“You are slow to trust,” he replied. “Slower than most, and for good reason. Yet you declare to me that you trust Pelegrín de Oto with Mira’s life?”
“Pelegrín wishes to give Mira the life she should have had as the daughter of barons.”
“But—”
“I know,” Elena cut him off. “She has no desire for that life, nor do you. And I’ve told him as much. What’s the harm in accepting gifts of gold and jewels from him, though? You could use it, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s truly his aim?” Arnaud’s tone was skeptical. “Simply to give her a piece of the Oto wealth?”
“That’s what he tells me.”
“Last summer he said nothing to me about welcoming her back into the family,” Arnaud countered. “He simply said he wanted to find her, to right an old wrong. That could mean any number of things.”
“Why would he tell you the truth?” she asked. “You never revealed who you were.”
“I want to trust the man,” Arnaud allowed. “He was nothing like I expected. But I still can’t risk putting Mira in his path. Not after everything that’s happened.”
Soon light would stream over the meadow, waking the people who just a few hours ago had trampled the grasses with their dancing, frightening the creatures of the night with revelry and song.
In silence they watched the golden crown of the sun slide up over the ridges in the east.