Winds of Fate [Books IV-VI]

Interlude: A Trial

March 13th 1699
Medianoche
Seville, Spain
Palacio del Conde de Sevilla

"...and... it was an implied warning," Salvador Facundo dutifully relays beside Paquito, both of them rigid and stiff by the doorways to the sala, where on the grand emerald settee at the center of the room, a distraught Doña Margareta listens with her head bowed, her eyes closed... and her hands gripping her black fan in a death grip. "But Don Antonio... he did not elaborate on his decision regarding the Iglesia, especially in the coming Semana Santa."

"What did you tell him?"

The matron's voice is heavy, hoarse from lack of sleep. Salvador and Paquito look at each other. The faithful caretaker nods at the groom and continues to answer for both of them, "Antonio did agree that following his father's footsteps would probably be the best course of action. I told him that is wise... and... it would be prudent to start with Sevilla, the city. Then, he could work for Sevilla, the province, once he has friends and influence."

To their relief, Doña Margareta nods, but that is dashed completely when she stands up and begins beating her palm with her fan. "And where is he?"

Paquito swallows. "Triana, Señora Condesa." He closes his eyes. "Señor Conde said he'll return by dawn. He... he dismissed us all." When she glares at him, the poor groom squeaks, "I gave him my dagger."

Doña Margareta grasps at the air, and Facundo is almost certain she wanted to aim for their necks. "You let him out of your sight!" She closes her eyes. "I trusted you both!"

"We cannot disobey," Facundo immediately says, making the Doña scowl at him. "Señora... Doña... he pleaded—"

"And where will we find him now?!"

Paquito curses and hides behind his hands.

"I cannot even send the guards!" She stifles her cry with the back of her hand. "Sevilla will laugh at us! That's why I let him go with you two! You were supposed to bring him home! I thought you would know how to handle this!" 

They never meet her eyes now, and could only glance at the carpet, at the wall... anywhere. For the Doña has hidden her face behind her kerchief. She does not make a sound, but truly, her trembling shoulders are enough proof. 

Facundo wavers, himself torn. He could still remember when this grand lady now was once a young bride, much like Señorita Theresa, and she was still unbroken—her politeness and grace a warm change from the insipid Doña Delfina and her equally brat of a daughter, Cristina. 

But perhaps, the rumors he had heard before are true; that the Familia Del Santo is a cursed family, a tainted bloodline for the sins of their fathers and the sins of the land. Here is Margareta, whose one sliver of joy in this palace seems to be her pride in her only son, the one that she nearly died for...

Only to see him cast her aside.

And yet, Facundo can never take it against poor Antonio. He is a young man, bound to want to see the world and all its glory and filth. He needed it, just as his dear mother needed him. It was a wretched fate for a family like theirs, shackled by their name and treasures and judged by them as well.

"Antonio didn't say," Facundo begins, to Paquito's utter surprise, "but I saw that he was called to the ship by his Captain."

The Doña lifts her tear-stained face. "In Triana?" She frowns. "They dock in Sevilla!"

"Well, perhaps it was a code, Señora." He nods, denying how cold he was at the bitter lie. "Nevertheless, he had to attend to whatever that was. I shall return there and keep an eye on him. I have been planning to do that, exactly. My sister lives only a few alleys away."