Marina sat up too.
"Your counsel sent you an urgent message," she whispered. "It was delivered to Segovia this afternoon, while he was with Dolores."
Castillano nodded patiently, for her to go on.
Marina went straight to the point. "The church wants you. They say you let a dangerous witch escape. If they jury absolves you, they'll charge you with heresy and deliver you to the Inquisition Tribunal in Mexico."
Castillano held her eyes as if she were speaking in tongues.
Marina rested a hand on his cheek, worried about his lack of reaction. "Did you hear me, Hernan? They want to make it the Inquisition or the noose for you! Your counsel is desperate and Segovia haven't even sent you his letter for you to know about it!"
Castillano frowned and shook his head. "No, it can't be. Why would they consider me an heretic? Because I'm locked up and can't go to church? No, you must be wrong."
"Dolores read your counsel's letter with her own eyes!"
"Segovia showed it to her?"
"No. She had to take it from his coat when he couldn't see her."
"Does she have it?"
"She couldn't steal it!"
Castillano kissed her hand and flashed a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, child. There's nothing to fear. The jury won't deliver me to the black robes."
"The only way not to is to hang you!"
Marina stiffened when he raised his eyebrows, like shrugging. She studied him for a long moment. He held her eyes without a blink.
"You know they cannot find you guilty. Dolores and Laventry made sure the charges didn't hold. And as soon as they set you free..."
"You're getting too ahead of ourselves. Bet Segovia is coming tomorrow to pick Dolores up. Surely he'll bring the letter, and we'll see whatever there is to see.
She frowned. "You don't believe me!"
"Of course I believe you, child, how—"
"Stop calling me that! I'm telling you it's the noose or the rack! And you don't even flinch!"
Castillano sighed, flashing a benevolent smile, like bearing a spoiled brat's tantrum.
Marina didn't slap him not to alert the soldier outside the door. She moved away from him toward the edge of the bed. Castillano took her hand, stopping her.
"Come, stay a while. You don't have to leave so soon."
Marina yanked her hand free angrily. "You're a moron, Hernan Castillano! Could you use your head instead of your crotch?"
"Says who? The child— No, the woman who sneaks into my bed hardly dressed?"
"You're a fool!"
"And now you find out."
Marina stood up and hurried to the window.
Castillano sighed again, watching her sneak out and run to the tamarind tree. He still had a glimpse of her white shirt in the starlight, as she climbed up the tree. He rubbed his face slowly. A moment later he heard her light footsteps on the upper-floor bedroom, right above his head.
In the morning, a glance at the faces around the table told Castillano he should keep his mouth shut, or even Alma would kick his rear. They had breakfast in an awkward, gloomy silence. Marina kept her eyes down and didn't touch the food. When she stood up, Castillano reached out to her. Marina moved her arm away before he touched her.
"Are you going to the parlor?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"I'm going to the market with Alma."
He watched her walk out, puzzled, and turned to Alma, who avoided eye contact as she picked up the service. Going to the market with Alma? Since when such a rush to go out? He set his jaw. Of course. He couldn't follow her to the street. So going out was the best way to stay away from him.
"Troubles in paradise, Captain?"
Dolores' ironic question from across the table felt like a punch. He faced her, like inviting her to keep mocking him and see what happened. His threatening scowl only made her smile wider.
"Tell me, Captain, what do you expect from the pearl? Her legs are still covered in scars after only one day prisoner of the church. And you think she will just sit and watch as the same threat hangs over your head?"
"I expect nothing from her, Dolores. I don't expect anything from anybody. Wish you would get it and let me be," Castillano grunted.
"To let you die?" Castillano looked away from her. "What a lion you turned out to be. You would pick death over a good woman who only wishes you well. I'd like to know where's the courage in that."
Castillano pushed his chair back and stood up.
Dolores got up too, cutting him off when he tried to circle the table to leave the room.
"And you? What do you expect from me?" he snarled, glaring at her. "You, the child, Alma. Damned women that think you can stick your noses in men's—"
Dolores slap made him curse.
"Spare me your ignorance, Captain." She met her eyes, glaring as well. "What we want is for you to be yourself. The Lion who terrorized the sea dogs. The one who didn't hesitate to risk it all in order to save the pearl from injustice. We want you to stop pitying yourself and hold your head high again. But you only go around, grumbling and begging us to let you die. We want you to face up to your destiny, that offers you the love of a woman like no other, who's been sleeping among her mortal enemies for weeks now, only for a chance to humiliate herself before you, pleading you to just stay alive." Dolores stepped aside to give him way. "But maybe we're wrong, expecting courage instead of blind pride from you."
Castillano would've loved to knock her lights out. He held her eyes a moment longer, breathing heavily through clenched teeth, and brushed past her on his way out of the daily dining room.
Marina wrapped her arm around Alma's as they strolled among the stands selling fruits, birds, fabrics, food, gold and silversmithing, trifles. Her black eyes scanned the faces around them. Among the different peddlers' calls mixing in the air, a rough voice announced magic tricks like nobody had ever seen before.
Alma had stopped to admire a shawl when she felt the tug, and she had to hurry after Marina, who pressed on alone toward the passers-by gathering around the travelling juggler.
The girl brushed her way to the first row, her heart jumping in her chest. She'd never thought hearing Maxó's ugly voice would make her so happy. Alma joined her to see two dubious-looking men performed sleights of hands with shiny little objects. One of them produced a flower from behind a native little girl's ear. The other one, with a scary scar across his face, produced a silver coin from a craftsman's sash. They entertained the little crowd for a while, as people cheered and clapped.
Alma was ready to intervene when the one with the scar paused in front of Marina, who grinned like the woman had never seen her smile before. The man showed his open, empty hands to the girl. He closed his fists and hid them for a heartbeat behind his back, to show them to her again.
Marina giggled. When she was a little girl, Maxó would play that trick to her whenever he came back from the sea. And it never mattered which fist she picked, there was always some small present for her. She poked the right fist and the pirate opened it, showing a delicate gold ring with a little pearl mounted on it. He took a bow as he reached out to her, took her hand and slid the ring in her finger, smiling.
"Look, perfect fit. Could it be that it found its true owner?" he said, meeting her eyes. "More beauty for a pearl."
Marina would've thrown her arms around his neck to hug him like she used to do. Instead, she admired the ring and clapped.
"Oh, Alma! Doña Dolores loves sleights of hands!" she cried. "Can we invite them so they can do their act for her?"
Alma frowned, scanning Maxó from head to toes, and nodded. "The third house after the nunnery," she said. "Come after lunch."
Maxó took another bow. "As Your Grace wishes."
On his way to straighten up, he took Marina's hand once more and kissed her fingers. From the other side of the circle, De Neill glanced from over his shoulder and winked at her as he kept his act going.