THE SUN WAS beginning to climb the eastern horizon as I rode down into the valley.
Zarita slept – probably from a combination of exhaustion, and the lingering effects of the potion her aunt had given her. I was forced to ride more slowly and cautiously than I wanted.
I avoided the army encampments. The road was empty, the countryside still quiet. It was with a shock that I heard the thudding of hoofbeats behind me.
There was nowhere to hide. How many riders? I squinted back along the road. Only one. I increased my pace but knew that I couldn’t outrun him on a horse that carried two. Then I saw a small lake ahead; a few trees – barely enough cover to conceal us from the road. But it might do. I urged my horse on, but as I approached I saw another traveller ahead of me in the road. I was trapped between these two.
I reined in. What to do? I couldn’t fight both of them, and my wits were stretched beyond where I could think clearly.
‘Hola! Saulo!’
My head jerked in surprise. I was being hailed by the man in front of me. I went forward a little and saw that it was Christopher Columbus.
I trotted towards him and he came on to meet me. Neither Zarita’s veil nor her hood were in place. Columbus started as he looked at her. He glanced back as the pursuing rider came into view and understood the situation immediately.
‘Quickly,’ he said. ‘Take the girl there.’ He pointed to the trees. ‘Cover her with your cloak. From a distance he won’t have spotted that your horse bears two persons.’
I slid down from my horse, gathering Zarita in my arms as I did so. Stooping over, I ran over to the group of trees by the water’s edge and laid her gently on the shingle shore. I threw my cloak over her body. Columbus also dismounted and wrenched branches from the evergreen bushes to cover her. I piled a bundle of stones in front.
‘Let’s hope she doesn’t awaken or cry out,’ Columbus muttered. He winked and grinned at me as he straightened up, and I understood some of the reasons why he’d attracted such a significant group of supporters over the years. He was loyal to his friends, resourceful and quick-witted, and relished the challenge of the unexpected. He placed his hand on my shoulder to calm my agitation and we strolled casually back to our horses.
A minute later the rider galloped up.
Columbus walked towards him, obscuring the view of the lakeside where Zarita was hidden. My hand went to my dagger.
‘Christopher Columbus’ – the man spoke as he dismounted – ‘I bring a missive from their majesties.’ From inside his jerkin he took a letter bearing the seal of Queen Isabella.
Columbus waved it away. ‘I am minded to be done with the King and Queen of Spain,’ he said. ‘I intend to go to France or England, where my brother is seeking patronage for us. With both of us there to plead our case, perhaps we will find a monarch who has the foresight to see the true potential of my planned expedition.’
‘Sir’ – the messenger got down on one knee and proffered the letter to Columbus – ‘this contains a summons to return to the court. Their majesties Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand have decided to agree to your terms, grant your demands and fund your expedition.’
Rather than the whoop of joy I expected from Columbus, I saw his face blanch. He placed his hand over his heart. ‘Can it be true?’ His words were barely audible. ‘After all these years, can it really be true?’
I took the letter from the messenger and handed it to Columbus. With trembling fingers he tore open the seal and scanned the contents.
‘It is written!’ His voice broke in emotion. ‘By the hand of Queen Isabella herself! I have her word that she will sponsor my venture!’
As the messenger went off to take his reply to the queen and king Columbus began, at once, to list the things he must do to prepare. ‘I will equip three caravels, buy supplies and recruit a crew right away, for I intend to set off later this very year, when the winds and weather are favourable. It will be the most exciting adventure the world has ever known! Say that you’ll come with me, Saulo!’
‘There is something . . . someone . . . that I have to take care of,’ I told him. ‘I cannot join you.’
‘But you must,’ said a voice behind us. ‘I do insist upon it.’
I spun round. Zarita had woken and was leaning against a tree.
‘Señor Columbus’ – she spoke slowly but distinctly – ‘if the queen and king are going to support your expedition, please be advised that Saulo the mariner will be sailing with you.’
I went to her and told her that I would not be going away, for I believed she would need my help over the next months.
Zarita shook her head. Her face was grey with grief and shock. ‘I must go to the convent in Las Conchas and speak to my aunt’s friend, Sister Maddalena,’ she told me. ‘We will try to comfort each other as we mourn the loss of someone we both admired and adored.’
I took her hands in mine and searched her eyes with my own. ‘Is our love strong enough to survive all that has happened to us?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Zarita replied, ‘I believe it is.’
And from that moment I too believed.
We watched Christopher Columbus mount his horse and ride back to the city.
Atop the hill, the magnificence of the Alhambra Palace dominated the landscape. The turrets, domes and towers glowed, tinted with streams of gold from the rays of the rising sun.
The nun was like enough Zarita about the eyes to fool even close guards when wearing a veil, I thought. A little taller, but she intended to stoop as they took her out. That wouldn’t have seemed unusual to the watchers, who would assume that the victim was broken in body and spirit. As she was a nun, they would not strip her, and her veil and cowl would remain in place.
I imagined the smell of fresh bread coming from the ovens of the bakers who rise before dawn to light their cooking fires. Then . . . the crow of a cockerel, and the inhabitants stir themselves awake. I think of one person who had most likely slept not at all throughout the night. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I could somehow blot out the scene from my mind’s eye.
Zarita came into my arms and we clung to each other.
The procession is assembling.
An escort of guards, among them the red-haired soldier. Now the steady beat of a drum as they move off to the place of execution. The populace, obliged to attend lest they attract suspicion upon themselves, edge back to let them through.
They reach the square. The stake is ready. Wood heaped around the foot.
She is led forward.