THE SIDE DOOR of the church banged open and my father came scuttling out. He glanced to the rear of the building: the cliff wall surrounded the back, with no path visible. He turned and raced along the side of the church towards the front.
Right away I sensed danger. I stood up.
The church door opened again and the young nobleman who had been the girl’s escort appeared, and then the girl herself, further behind, skirts clutched up in her hands, running.
The young man chased after my father, shouting wildly. ‘Murder! Thief! Assassin!’
There were few people about, but those who were in the square stopped to look.
I beckoned with my hand. I thought my father had seen me but he veered away to the right, in the direction of a staircase going down to the sea.
My heart thudded in my chest. No! That way led to the shore, and the water would bar his way.
At the first step the young man caught up with him and lunged out with his dagger.
‘Ramón!’ the girl screamed. ‘Be careful!’
My father carried no weapon. He shoved away the man called Ramón and sent him sprawling. But, in doing so, he himself fell backwards and tumbled down the stairs.
With the other onlookers I ran over to see what was happening.
Below us, my father scrambled to his feet. A few more seconds and he might have got free; found another alleyway or a cliff path to make his escape. But then a group of soldiers came marching along the quayside. From the top of the stairs his pursuer, Ramón, bawled at the lieutenant in charge.
‘Arrest that man! He has just assaulted a girl inside the church and tried to kill me!’
The soldiers charged after my father, grabbed him and, with many blows and kicks, hauled him up the staircase to face the man, Ramón.
‘Take him to this girl’s father!’ The young nobleman’s face was twisted in rage. ‘His name is Don Vicente Alonso Carbazón and he is the local magistrate!’
And so my father was dragged through the streets to the home of the magistrate and flung down in his compound. I ran after them, unable to think clearly about what was happening, so fast were these dreadful events unfolding. On the way there, more folk gathered behind the soldiers to watch the spectacle. They now crowded about the open gateway.
The girl went to hug her father as he came to the door of their house. She made to pull off her veil but he stayed her hand. He was without his jacket, and the collar of his shirt was undone. His hair was wild and his body trembled as he spoke.
‘What is the noise,’ he demanded angrily, ‘that disturbs me at a time when I most need peace?’ He held up his hand. ‘Silence!’ he roared. Then he pointed at the young nobleman. ‘You, Ramón Salazar, tell me what’s going on here.’
‘Sir, Don Vicente – this beggar man attacked your daughter in the church in a most atrocious way. And when I went to restrain him, he attempted to kill me.’
Don Vicente took a step forward and struck my father in the face with his fist. My father fell to the ground, spitting teeth and blood into the red dirt of the yard.
‘Sire’ – my father tried to speak – ‘most noble Don—’
Don Vicente aimed a kick at his head. ‘Silence, you cur,’ he snarled. ‘If I had not more pressing matters to deal with, I would try you here and have sentence carried out upon you immediately.’
‘We are in a state of war.’ The lieutenant in charge of the soldiers spoke up. ‘Queen Isabella of Castile and her husband, King Ferdinand of Aragon, have stated that they will tolerate no civil unrest while they fight to reunify all our provinces so that Spain can become one country again. A town magistrate can have a traitor executed by a military officer without formal trial. And anyone who harms a nobleman or a woman in a church must be guilty of treason.’ He pointed to a nearby tree. ‘We can hang him now and end the matter here.’
‘Do it,’ Don Vicente ordered. He swivelled on his heel and prepared to go inside his house. ‘And get rid of that rabble at my gate.’
‘Father!’ I yelled as the soldiers began to close the heavy wooden doors to the compound.
I tried to push my way in but they beat everyone back violently with the flats of their swords. I pounded on the wooden surface; it wouldn’t yield. When I heard the bolt being secured, I ran off and scoured the outside walls until I found a place for a toe-hold. I took a few paces back, then threw myself at this part of the wall, and scrabbled with nails and feet until I gained the top. Now I could see into the yard below. A groom from the stables had been ordered to bring a rope and it was slung over the upper part of a thick tree. My father’s mouth was agape with terror and disbelief. Blood drooled from his lips.
‘Papa!’ The girl tugged at her father’s sleeve.
Her papa, the magistrate, shook her off. ‘Go you inside,’ he said. ‘You have disgraced our family.’
‘Papa!’ the girl wailed in anguish. ‘Listen to me. This man does not deserve to die.’
But it was too late.
They quickly noosed the rope and cast it around my father’s neck, and the soldiers hauled him high on the tree branch. And some of them grinned and joked as they did so, as if it were a sport to see a man kick out and frantically claw at his throat as he choked to death. But one soldier, a stocky red-haired man, went forward and pulled hard on my father’s legs to end his agony.
My father’s body jerked in a last spasm. His arms flailed sideways. To me it seemed he was reaching out to embrace me. I jumped down into the courtyard and ran to him, tears coursing down my face.
‘Father! Father!’ I cried. ‘Father!’
Don Vicente stopped at the threshold of his house. He surveyed me with disdain. ‘I should have known. Carrion like that always spawn more filth.’ The features of his face drew together in lines of deep disgust. ‘Better to wipe out the breed and the seed.’ He waved his hand in a command to the soldiers. ‘Let the beggar’s son dance the same jig.’
The lieutenant nodded to the groom.
‘Bring another rope,’ he said.