Iron Lace (32 page)

Monique was sobbing and calling out to him, half in relief
and half in fear for him now, as well as for herself.

The friar brandished the iron wildly at Miguel, lunging
like a madman in an obvious effort to blind or burn him. "Hell and
damnation!" he raged. "You must not interfere, I tell you. This is a
matter for the Holy Tribunal!"

Miguel dodged the brand, but the heat from its
still-sizzling tip nearly singed his cheek as he drew back. One look at
Monique was enough to tempt him to forget all his fine resolutions and
run the monk through on the spot, but he knew the repercussions of his
actions at that moment might affect the lives of many people, perhaps
even the future of the colony itself.

"The fire has reached the square," he told the friar. "We
must get out of here before it's too late!"

"It's safe enough down here," retorted Padre Sebastian,
"as long as the passage door is closed."

"We'll roast down here like pigs on a spit. We have to get
out, I tell you."

He fumbled again with the straps around Monique's wrists,
but it was difficult to loosen them with just one hand, and he didn't
dare lower his guard against the friar.

"The only way I'll leave here will be if I see both you
and the girl either dead or in chains!" The monk swished the
long-handled branding iron above the flames to keep it deadly hot.
Then, with one continuous movement, he lunged a second time.

Miguel parried the thrust with his sword, and their
strange duel continued with even more deadly intent than before. Metal
clashed against metal. Miguel threw his cape back out of his way as he
set about defending himself in earnest.

Although his fine Toledo blade and expert swordsmanship
made him by far the superior of the two, the wild frenzy of the monk
made him an opponent to be reckoned with. Miguel remembered fleetingly,
even as he thrust and parried desperately to keep that red-hot iron
from finding its way into his eyes, how once he had heard someone say
that the strength and cunning of one madman was equal to that of ten
sane men, and now he knew it was true.

In the ruddy glow of the flames, the friar's face had
taken on an even more diabolical aspect, his eyes smoldering in their
deep sockets and his long brown robes whipping about his skinny frame
as though he were a winged demon bolting out of hell.

Miguel recognized the fact that his reluctance to kill the
monk was placing him at a disadvantage, since he was forced to fight
defensively instead of aggressively. He had just about decided that the
best way to bring their bizarre duel to an end would probably be to
wound the friar just enough to disarm him, when suddenly the latter
made another one of his sweeping movements over the brazier to keep the
brand hot and then lunged forward. Holding the tip of the iron tilted
high to reach his taller adversary's eye level, the monk thrust
furiously… once… twice. He chuckled his
satisfaction as Miguel instinctively retreated from him. But even as he
moved in closer to press his advantage, the long sleeve of his habit
trailed over the brazier.

Immediately the restless flames leaped up and snapped
curiously at him.

In a split second, the fire was racing along the length of
his uplifted arm and on toward the very peak of his hood. With a cry of
amazement, he dropped the branding iron and clutched frantically at his
blazing garment.

"Get it off!
Quitesela
!" Miguel
shouted to him, even as the fire turned on itself and began racing down
the other side of the monk's flowing robes. His figure was outlined in
flames now from the top of his pointed hood to the hem of his habit.

There was no water to be found in the place, so Miguel
quickly removed his own cape and stepped toward the friar, hoping at
least to smother the swift course of the flames with it, but the monk
shrieked wildly and drew back with threatening gestures.

Clawing, coughing and sputtering, he slapped at himself
wildly in a vain effort to put out the flames. His hood fell back,
exposing his tonsured head with its rim of dark hair circling the
shaven crown. A human torch now, he ran toward the passageway,
screaming as he went, leaving the odor of burning cloth and singed hair
in his wake.

Long after he disappeared, his desperate cries of terror
continued to echo throughout the tunnel.

At that moment, however, Miguel's first thought was for
Monique. Sheathing his sword quickly, he ran to free her. But she was
so stiff and sore when she slipped down from the rack and tried to
stand that she couldn't sustain herself without his help.

He threw his cape around her shoulders and caught her
eagerly to him, grateful just to feel her there at last in his arms.
Weeping softly now, she clung to him like a confused, frightened child.

"Don't cry, my sweet," he kept murmuring as he showered
her tearstained face with kisses. "You're safe now. You know I'd never
let anyone hurt you."

"I… I was so afraid," she sobbed. "I thought
I'd never see you or… or Grandmother… or anyone
ever again…" Her voice trailed off, smothered now by his
lips.

"By all that's holy, I'll never let you get away from me
again!" he told her as his own tears mingled now with hers.

Her body ached all the more as he crushed her to him, and
the taste of their kisses was salty, but she rejoiced in the
sensations, for they told her she was alive and that Miguel was there
holding her close once more.

"Are you hurt, my dear?" he was asking her gently. "Tell
me the truth. Did that monster hurt you in any way?"

"He… he said horrible things to me
and… and wanted to… to…"

But Miguel suddenly put a finger gently to her lips. "No,
my dear, I shouldn't have asked you that. There's no time for such
things now. We may be in danger here. We'll talk later when you're safe
at home. Then you can tell me, but only me. You mustn't say anything to
anyone else about any of this, do you understand? We're going to tell
your grandmother and Celeste that you were caught in the fire, that's
all… as little as possible. I promised the governor. It's
for your sake, and for many others, too. Do you understand?"

She didn't really, but she nodded her assent. Whatever
Miguel said. The important thing was that he was there taking care of
her again and she knew everything would be all right now. At that
moment nothing else mattered.

"We have to get out of this place," he continued
anxiously. "We're in danger of being trapped down here." He didn't want
to frighten her any more than she already was, but he knew there might
also still be danger from Padre Sebastian himself. The man was a
fanatic, and if he'd managed to put out his burning habit in time, he
might be up there in his hut waiting for them… stalking them
at that very moment.

He had finally spotted her cloak in a corner of the dimly
lit chamber, so he went quickly to fetch it for her while she leaned
against the rack, trying to rearrange her tattered gown and wondering
where all her strength had gone.

Miguel's jaw clenched angrily as he helped her exchange
his cape for her own and drew it protectively around her. He circled
Monique's waist with his arm and firmly sustained her against him to
steady her. For a moment just the feel of her vibrant warmth there in
his arms again softened the cutting edge of his fury.

"I love you, Monica," he said huskily. "If anything had
happened to you, I'd have never gotten over it."

She swayed a little, and he tightened his arm.

"My poor child!" he exclaimed anxiously. "Let me get you
out of here right now. Can you walk if I support you this way?"

She tried a few steps and nodded. Slowly he led her over
to the entrance of the tunnel, pausing only to take the torch from the
wall bracket in order to light their way back.

As they stepped out of that chamber of horrors and pulled
the rotting wooden door closed behind them, it was as though they were
leaving the realms of Hades in their wake.

The passageway was so close that Miguel had to walk
stooped, and their shoulders brushed the sides of the crumbling brick
walls as they made their way pressed close together. The entire tunnel
oozed and dripped with moisture. Huge droplets of water trickling from
the ceiling fell into their faces, and the seepage coming through the
brick-lined walls and flooring was so great that they had to pick their
way over puddles of water as they went along.

The faint odor of smoke tinged the damp, clammy atmosphere
and seemed to grow stronger as they made their way closer to the other
end, but there was only one way out, so they had to go on.

There were times when Monique stumbled and nearly fell,
but Miguel's grip held her fast. At such moments all she could do was
stand there clinging to him, weeping with fright and frustration.

"It's all right, my dear, it's all right," he kept
reassuring her. "Come, we only have a little way more to go now. Hold
on to me. I won't let you fall."

But the nearer they came to the end of the passageway, the
more apprehensive Miguel became. The presence of fire permeated the
atmosphere. Smoke was beginning to penetrate the tunnel, and its acrid
odor was beginning to sting their eyes and sear their lungs. Miguel
knew they had to get out of there at all costs before they were
overcome.

With sword in one hand and torch in the other, he left
Monique at the bottom of the short flight of tiny brick steps and
climbed cautiously toward the trapdoor above them.

The saints be praised! It wasn't completely closed! One of
his fears had been that the door wouldn't open and they'd find
themselves trapped down there. Most certainly, if that fanatical monk
hadn't been so occupied with his own troubles when he'd surfaced
shortly before them, he would have tried to find some way to block
their exit.

Partially sheathing his sword, Miguel carefully eased the
trapdoor open. All his senses were on the alert for whatever lay
waiting on the other side.

Suddenly a nauseating wave of heat rushed against his
face. The entire hut over them was in flames! Miguel had the strange
feeling that he was rising out of the bowels of the earth only to go
from one hell to another!

"Cover
your head!" Miguel cried as he lifted her through the
trapdoor into the fiery inferno of the burning hut. He swept her into
his arms and began a desperate dash for the outer door, while the
crackle and roar of the flames grew louder in their ears.

Monique clutched the hood of her cloak tighter about her
to protect herself from the sparks of blinding light dancing around
them in the smoke-filled haze like giant fireflies. She was aware of
Miguel's chest heaving against her cheek as he carried her doggedly
toward that slit of light shimmering off in the distance. The hut was
not that large, yet at that moment the doorway seemed so far
away…

An oppressive, choking blanket of smoke enveloped them,
and they began to cough and sputter, but Miguel toiled forward as
swiftly as his panting, stifled breath would allow. Their hearts were
pounding in a macabre union… Had she escaped Fray
Sebastian's fiery purge in the dungeon below only to perish in the
hellfire of his blazing hut?

Suddenly one of those flaming darts of burning thatch from
the roof came flying through the air and landed on the shoulder of her
cloak. With lightning speed, however, before it could take hold, Miguel
snuffed it out with a fold of his own damp cape. Thank God for that
trek through the dripping tunnel! It had at least dampened their outer
clothing enough to make them less vulnerable now to those insatiable
flames around them! Straining every fiber of his being to the limits of
his strength, Miguel ran those last few feet to the exit, relieved to
see that the narrow slit of light that had been guiding him through the
dark, smoke-filled hut had been indeed the partially open doorway.

He stumbled, hardly setting her to her feet, as he raced
with her to a safe area near the still-smoldering ruins of a blackened
brick wall, which had in all probability once been a part of the
calabozo.

"The saints be praised!" exclaimed Miguel between heaving
gasps as the chilly breath of that early-winter evening brought welcome
respite to his agonizing lungs.

For a long moment they stood there merged with the
darkening shadows of the ever-encroaching night, gulping in the cold
brisk air while they laughed and exclaimed with the sheer joy of being
alive and together again. Monique wept a little, and he kissed away her
tears, murmuring reassuring phrases in her ear to calm her.

Then cries sounded close by and they were suddenly aware
of their surroundings. Most of the huts there in back of the church and
many of the larger buildings to one side of the square were still
burning themselves out, and the Plaza de Armas itself was filled with
screaming, shouting people trying to extend a bucket brigade into the
square from the river, while the militia struggled desperately to keep
the hand pumps working.

A man was looking curiously at them, so Miguel took
Monique by the arm and decided they should get out of there as quickly
as possible.

Suddenly someone called out above the din. "It's stopped!
The fire's stopped… right before the church! A miracle! A
miracle!"

Another voice came from near the rear of the cathedral.
"It's Padre Sebastian… the poor padre! God have mercy on his
soul!"

Miguel paused. A stout elderly woman came waddling past
them, shaking her head dolefully and making the sign of the cross again
and again over her ample bosom.

"Did you say Padre Sebastian?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes, senor. The poor monk! They just found his
charred body inside the church… lying there on the floor
behind the altar! What a horrible way to die! God have mercy on his
soul!"