excerpt
. . . they impaled all the chiefs. It was my fault. I led them to their
deaths.”
“I heard. Benjamin told me. He and Pánfilo brought you to the
coast. You were half-dead. Luckily I had sent word to Losada,
asking after you. They said an Indian had wanted to kill you.”
Bartolomé was enjoying my confusion.
“Pánfilo?”
“Yes. It seems Pánfilo thought killing a friar meant ruining his
chances with the Almighty and so he decided to help Benjamin save
your hide. Or maybe he didn’t like sharing the same labd with you.”
“You mean . . . ?
“Yes. We’re headed back to Spain.”
I snorted and lay back. I looked around. The ship was not the
Isabella. It was a badly kept pinnace.
“Why are you sailing in this pitiful thing? Where is the Isabella?”
“Sunk by a damned English pirate. But I made the son of a heretic
whore pay.”
“When was that?”
“Several months ago. On our way to meet the Armada in
Veracruz.”
I could see the loss of the Isabella was not something he cared to
discuss.
“What’s his name, my nephew’s?”
“Bartolomé, of course.”
“And Paloma? Was she the mother?”
He nodded, angry rather than wistful.
“I found her at last. She was still married to the scarred son of a
whore who burned me. I took her with me and burnt his hacienda
down as retribution for all the lost years. I should have killed him,
too.”
He fell silent. Another deep regret. He would tell me what
happened to her in due course.
“He had money, hadn’t he?”
“Yes, plenty.”
Libros Libertad 