Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (75 page)

While several of the
Madrigal's
crew armed with harquebuses had returned fire against the soldiers appearing over the headland, holding their attackers at bay, Valentine Whitelaw had ordered his men into the boat. Then he'd signaled to the Turk, who had already been running to his captain's side. Looking startled by the order his captain had given, he'd nonetheless accepted the journal and the other leather-bound book that Valentine had handed to him. Tucking the two books inside his caftan, he listened attentively to his captain's quickly spoken words. Once, he shook his turbaned head, and then nodded when Valentine Whitelaw's words sharpened, but there was a look of disapproval on the Turk's harsh countenance as he obeyed his captain and climbed into the boat, taking his seat at the stern.

For the first time, Valentine Whitelaw became aware of his nephew's condition, for Simon Whitelaw had come to stand near him, but he had not complained or even mentioned his injury while Valentine had been giving his orders to the Turk and the rest of his crew.

"Simon!" Valentine now said, staring in disbelief at his nephew's bloodied arm. "Good Lord, lad, you've been hit," he murmured, and before Simon could protest, he'd lifted him clear into the boat, a couple of the mates reaching out to take the lad into their care.

"See he gets proper attention once back aboard, Mustafa! He is in your care. Now row, damn you! Don't let them catch you sitting here on your oars!" he called, pushing with all of his might against the boat to get it well beyond the pull of the tide.

"Lily!" Simon hollered, trying to turn around in his seat. "She's at the pool. I left her there, Valentine! She's all alone! We can't leave her! She will have heard the cannon fire! She will be frightened! She's in danger, Valentine!" he called back, wincing instinctively as another deafening roar filled the air. "We can't leave both of you here! Stop! Don't leave them!" Simon said frantically, and would have jumped into the surf had it not been for the Turk's restraining arms. "He's your captain! You can't sail without him!" Simon said indignantly, not seeing the Turk's grieving face.

"I'll find her, Simon!" Valentine called, already running along the shore, for with his men in the boat there was no longer any return fire to keep the troop of soldiers from
descending
the headland.

Simon Whitelaw watched helplessly from the boat as it cleared the surf and was rowed with what seemed inhuman strength toward the
Madrigal
.

Valentine Whitelaw watched helplessly from the boat as it cleared the surf and was rowed with what seemed inhuman strength toward the
Madrigal
.

Valentine Whitelaw had nearly reached the headland separating the cove and bay, passing by the tall pine where Lily had kicked off her slippers and thrown her stockings and garters to the winds, when he spied a small party of Spaniards descending from the slope. And walking amongst them was a girl in no more than her petticoat and chemise; it was Lily Christian.

Despite the sword pressed against his spine, Valentine Whitelaw helped Lily climb into the boat that had been rowed ashore from the
Estrella D'Alba
. He knew it was the
Estrella D'Alba
; he had recognized its castellated towers and the streaming banners and pennants, as well as her coat of arms displayed so proudly for her enemies to gaze upon before being sunk by her overpowering cannon fire. The other ships which had accompanied her had gone in pursuit of the
Madrigal
.

"Valentine?" Lily murmured softly.

Valentine Whitelaw glanced down at her sitting so quietly next to him on the seat. Valentine took her cold hand in his, for the Spaniards had left them unbound, knowing that their captives had nowhere to run.

"My Lily Francisca, I would not have had it end this way," he said, unaware that he repeated another lover's regrets, tearfully spoken over ten years earlier when Geoffrey Christian had sent his wife and daughter ashore on this very same isle.

"They will kill you, Valentine," she spoke huskily.

"I know," he said. Even though he could not understand their Spanish words, he knew, for they had called him
El Tigre
. It would be an honor for any captain, especially Don Pedro Villasandro, to hang Valentine Whitelaw. "Of course, they have to get me back to Spain first," he added, a slight smile curving his lips, which had one of his captors crossing himself worriedly, for the Englishman was supposed to have magical powers-how else could he have wreaked such destruction along the Main?

"They have been talking of your death, Valentine," Lily said, barely able to pronounce the damning words. "You and I will find no mercy from them, or their captain, Valentine," she told him, and glancing at the body that had been wrapped in a length of sail cloth and placed on the bottom of the boat, she continued. "That is their captain's son, Valentine. They blame me and you for his death. So will this
captain
of theirs."

At that, Valentine Whitelaw did look concerned. Don Pedro's son? He glanced at Lily and realized that she did not know that the man was her cousin. How he had come to die, and why she should be blamed, he had yet to learn, but pay for the lad's death, yes, by God, he knew they would if they ever did reach Spain-
-
but then, perhaps they never would reach their destination, he thought, glancing at Don Pedro's galleon. He did not fear his own death, for he had expected it during every battle he'd fought, but Lily
.
.
.
no, not Lily. And he feared Don Pedro would have good reason for seeing Lily Christian dead. It would settle a very old score-an eye for an eye.

The boat had cleared the whitewater of the surf and was being rowed ever closer toward the entrance to the cove, and to the
Estrella D'Alba
, anchored just beyond the reefs.

"Why did the
Madrigal
leave us?" Lily asked, her angrily raised voice drawing the attention of one of the sailors, whose eyes lingered overly long on Lily's fiery red hair and soft breasts revealed all too immodestly in her thin chemise.

Valentine Whitelaw wanted to drive his sword through the Spaniard for the way he was looking at Lily, as if she were a whore; indeed, had Valentine understood the Spaniards as Lily had, he would have been angrier to have heard Lily referred to as
El Tigre
's redheaded whore. There had even been some speculation as to what her fate would be before she ever reached Spain and surely met her death there was a witch.

"The
Madrigal
was outgunned, Lily. She would have been sunk had she not fled. Those were my orders," Valentine told her, damning himself now for not having been more vigilant, more suspecting of treachery, but although he had expected that word would have leaked out about the
Madrigal's
journey, he'd had no idea of the true traitor's identity or that every move he'd made had been anticipated and reported by that unknown enemy

Lily Christian stared at Valentine Whitelaw's face. She loved him. If he were to die, and in the manner in which these Spaniards were discussing, she would never rest in peace. She could not bear to see him harmed. As Lily sat in the boat, still shaken by the death of the young man who'd given his life for hers and knowing that she and Valentine would soon
follow
by just as violent a death, she stared at the deep turquoise waters of the cove splashing against the sides of the small boat.

Her gaze shifted toward the headland, where only that morning they'd climbed the stony path to the cave. Then her gaze moved to the great galleon that rode at anchor just beyond the reefs, and where she and Valentine would be taken aboard as prisoners.

Once in Spain, Valentine Whitelaw would be tried and found guilty of being a heretic by his Inquisition judges. Upon
sentence
, he would be burned at the stake in a public square. Lily closed her eyes, shivering in terror at such a thought as her own fate
.
.
.
she would gladly welcome death, no matter how painful, if Valentine died.

Lily opened her eyes to see a porpoise frolicking in the blue-green waters. She watched unthinkingly for a few minutes while the porpoise jumped and dived through the purple and orange reefs, disappearing for a minute, then
suddenly
surfacing with a splash of water and a funny-sounding cry. As she continued to gaze into the clear waters, she saw a large turtle paddling by, intent upon some business of his own, oblivious of the world above his underwater realm.

As Lily watched him drifting into the safety of the deep water below, she suddenly remembered. Her heart started pounding so loudly with the idea that she thought their guards must surely hear and suspect something amiss.

"Valentine?"

Valentine Whitelaw grasped her hand tighter, thinking she was growing frightened as they neared the tall sterncastle of the galleon.

"Do you trust me?'

"¡Silencio!"
one of the guards said, raising his halberd threateningly.

Lily lowered her head submissively, her fingers tightening around Valentine's hand warning him not to speak, for she felt the anger surging through him. But he mustn't be hurt or wounded, not now.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course," he said wonderingly.

"Then jump over the side of the boat when I do. You must follow me, Valentine. I led you to the cave didn't I? I will do so again," Lily promised. "Trust me, please, Valentine," she begged him. "I told you something else about that cave. Remember?"

Valentine stared down at her bowed head. To drown would at least be preferable to burning, he thought. And at least they would be together. "Yes, I trust you, Lily Francisca," he said, but even as he spoke, he found himself remembering her last words about the cave and suddenly he laughed softly, which caused his captor who'd already been disturbed by
El Tigre
's smile of moments ago, to glance in concern at Diego Calderon, leaving his captives unguarded for just an instant.

Lily kept her head down, but she was watching the headland through the corner of her eyes. "Take a deep breath. Now!" she cried, and standing up in the small boat, she jumped into the sea.

Valentine Whitelaw had stood up with her, but had somehow managed to rock the easily overbalanced boat before he followed Lily into the watery depths.

Gunfire sounded after their descent into the aquamarine depths, but the bullets and spears that followed floated
harmlessly
down into the deep.

The startled guards in the boat continued to gaze frantically into the sea, waiting to see the two surface, some trying to position their harquebuses in the rocking boat while others took aim with their pikes, ready to spear the two heretics like gasping fish when they came up for air.

But the two never surfaced. For almost half an hour, the boat remained in the same position, the crew searching the water, but no sign was ever seen of the two prisoners. The oarsmen even rowed back to shore, searching the beach and the surrounding areas of both headlands, but no sign could be found of either one.

None of them wished to report to their captain, Don Pedro Villasandro, that the two prisoners, one of them the infamous
El Tigre
, had drowned while trying to escape. And that would have been the easy part, for the rest of their task would be harder when they had to inform Don Pedro that his son was dead.

Valentine Whitelaw followed Lily as she swam deeper into the sea, and he suddenly had the fanciful thought that she was indeed the mermaid he'd thought her to be, leading him to his death in a watery grave. He felt as if his lungs were going to burst, but still she swam ahead of him as if born to the sea. Never had he seen anyone move with such ease and grace through the water. Her long hair floated out around her like the seaweed drifting
through
the
water. He kicked off his shoes, paddling all the harder to keep up with her, but she always remained just ahead of him, her pale legs beckoning him to keep following her deeper and deeper into the turquoise depths that stretched into indigo beneath him, and where only fish and turtles and strange undersea creatures-
-
and Lily Christian
-
-dared to roam.

He felt a roar growing louder in his ears and a painful burning in his chest, and it was with a sense of disbelief that he saw her disappear into a coral reef and he found himself wondering if she had gills.

Once inside, however, she was suddenly there beside him, her hand grasping his. Thinking he was about to black out from lack of oxygen, although the sea surrounding him suddenly seemed far lighter in color, he held on to her hand all the tighter, not daring to let loose even if she did head toward the dark corridor he saw in the distance. But Lily started kicking her feet and rising to the surface, pulling him along with her.

Suddenly glorious air filled his lungs and above him he could actually see blue sky and tufts of salmon pink clouds, burnished around the edges from the sunset, drifting by. He breathed deeply again, the air heavy with salt spray and the sound of the sea.