“Live in peace! Would he ever do that? He’d be trying to set up idols wherever he was.”
“Jake, Jake, I beg of you.”
There was silence.
He went out and left me. He went far, I knew, for when he came back his horse was exhausted.
Night came. I did not rest. I sat silent in my chair and wept.
Jake lay in bed, sleeping, or pretending to. He awoke and I was still sitting in the chair.
He came to me then and lifted me up and carried me to bed.
He held me in his arms.
“You’ll make yourself ill,” he said tenderly.
I did not reply. I knew words were useless now. He had made up his mind. I sensed the purpose in him.
I slept at last, worn out by my emotions.
It was daylight when I awoke and Jake had gone.
I thought I would go to the hut, but Jake had warned me so firmly not to that I did not go. I must wait in any case until I knew what I could do.
There must be something. “Please, God,” I prayed, “tell me what I can do. Help me to save my son.”
All morning I did not see Jake.
Jennet came. She was full of chatter.
“Look, Mistress, the Golden Fleece be ready to sail. They say she be going on the tide.”
I did not want to listen. I was thinking: Roberto, what can I do to save you?
I was afraid that Jennet was going to say that someone had been to the hut, but she did not mention it. She was full of the unexpected departure of the Golden Fleece. She had known a sailor who was one of the crew.
I sharply told her to be silent. I was in no mood to ponder on Jennet’s emotional entanglements. If she had lost her sailor on the Golden Fleece she would soon replace him.
Jake came in in the afternoon.
He said he wanted to speak with me and we went to our bedroom.
“They are on their way,” he said.
“You mean you have warned them?”
“No. I did not warn them. They were after him. All the suspected traitors are being hunted out. Your son is one of them. He is a fool. He should never have come here. The first place in which they will look for him is his old home.”
“Oh, God, they will find him here.”
“They will search the place.”
“They will go to the hut.” I covered my face with my hands. As I did so I heard the commotion in the courtyard.
Jake had raised me to my feet; he had taken me to the window.
“Look out,” he said. “Do you see the Golden Fleece? She has shipped her anchor. She is about to sail on the tide. There’s a fair wind. It will carry her far before nightfall.”
I did not look.
I shook my head wearying, seeing Roberto cowering in the hut, trussed by Jake ready for his captors.
“I am a good patriot,” he said. “All know it. I have helped to hound the Spaniards off the sea. Everyone knows I would not harbor a traitor in my household.”
“You will be safe,” I said fiercely.
“And I’ll vouch for my wife,” he answered.
“You taunt me … at such a time.”
“Nay,” he said. “You will not look at the Fleece. Shall I tell you what cargo she carries?”
“I am not interested in her cargo.”
“Not when it is your son, Roberto.”
I stared at him. “Jake! What means this? You…”
He lifted his arm and clenched his fist. “He’s a traitor. I never thought I’d help a traitor. But when my vixen of a wife commands me.
I lay against him.
Then I looked up into his face. “Oh, Jake, is it true? You are not tormenting me?”
“They’ll go to the hut. The bird has flown. Or been spirited away. I took him out to the Fleece early this morning.”
What could I say to this man? How could I ever show him what I felt?
I took his hand and kissed it. I think he was moved.
Then I heard the rapping at the door.
The Triumph of the Lions
THE LAND WAS HEAVY with foreboding. We knew that the Spaniards were coming. We knew that they had conquered a great part of the world; we knew, too, that they came, not only with fighting men and armament, but with the rack, the thumbscrews and the more deadly instruments of torture such as we had never heard of. They came not only as conquerors of our land but as religious fanatics. If ever they conquered us as they had other peoples, this would be the end to freedom as we knew it. We should be forced to accept not only them but their faith.
To men such as Jake, Carlos, Jacko, Penn, it was inconceivable that we should fail. Their faith was in England, the undefeatable land.
Men might talk of the Invincible Armada but we laughed that to scorn. We were the invincible, the unconquerable.
The memory of that Whitsunday will linger forever in the minds of those who went to church that morning. It was more than a Whitsunday service; it was a dedication; it was an exhortation; for in the Bay lay the great ships waiting. And never had the people of Plymouth seen such a glorious sight.
We came down from Pennlyon—Jake and I with Carlos and Edwina, Jacko, Penn, Linnet and Damask. The sun was dancing in the water and in the little streets people were hurrying from their houses to come to the church to see Sir Francis. For he was there: the great sailor, the terror of the Spaniards and the hero of all the Queen’s loyal subjects.
We knew that soon the greatest battle in our country’s history would be fought. Those of us who were sober-minded reminded ourselves that our future could depend on it. Already the Spaniards were preparing to sail.
Out in the Bay lay the ships flying the flag of England—a red cross on a white background. The wind was strong and the ships seemed to be pulling at their anchors, impatient to be away. There lay Drake’s own ship, the Revenge, Howard of Effingham’s Ark, Martin Frobisher’s White Bear and Triumph. There were the Elizabeth Bonaventure and Nonpareil. A wonderful sight. Jake had given his services to Lord Howard and Sir Francis. Carlos and Jacko had done the same.
They would never have forgiven themselves if they had not been at hand to sail out and fight the Armada when the time came.
And as I sat in the church on that Sunday I asked myself what would the next days bring.
The Golden Fleece had not yet returned. I wondered often whether she had been taken by the Spaniards. If so, Roberto might well have been saved. He might be living with his father’s family in Spain. Was that too much to hope for? Who could say? But it was not so very long ago since he had sailed away; perhaps the Fleece would return bringing him with her. And if he did, could he settle down to a peaceful life?
The Queen of Scots, deeply implicated in the Babington Plot, had the previous year been beheaded in Fotheringhay Castle, and if we could beat the Armada we might be free of menace from outside England and from within. Could we hope for a few peaceful years?
I had told Linnet of Roberto’s escape. I confided in her more and more. She was now eighteen years old—a lovely, spirited girl. She was like us both—Jake and myself. I had stressed, too, how Jake had saved Roberto by sending him off in the Golden Fleece which was a noble act on his part, for she would realize his firm convictions.
“He did this for me,” I said. “It is something I shall never forget.”
Linnet with the emotional impulsiveness of the young changed toward him. She began to see him in a new light. The rough and violent man whose heart was good nonetheless. She no longer scorned him; and it was another revelation to notice that Jake was almost pathetically pleased by her change toward him.
They were wary of each other; but I think she wanted to be proud of him and he wanted her to love him.