Annalea, Princess of Nemusmar

"That's near all there is to tell, love," Sarah said. "Annalea asked Orke to free the restrained Spaniards, and so he and Brigstaff removed the rusted iron chains and stood by, 'lest they became angry and violent and needed subduing. But they just stood right there, and didn't move. They had not the look of victors: there was no exaltation of freedom, for them. They just looked exhausted–and abused."

  "No more to see," Cynthia added, "the crowd broke and we all headed home. When we left, Annalea, Mam' Tiére, Brigstaff and Orke were standing 'round the men, talking quietly with them. Then came we straight home, to attend you."

  The sisters had taken me on an incredible journey–as much emotional as informational. Now–feeling more drained than when I arrived–I had need to depart. I graciously thanked the sisters for "enlightening" me and made haste for me own quarters. I knew it would do me good to distance meself from the occurrences of the past several days, and put me mind to a true rest. I anxiously sought me own hearth and berth and the quiet repose that awaited me there.

  As I burst through me own door–feeling as a man adrift in a storm at sea, whose finally lucked upon a patch of dry land–I was confronted by Mam' Tiére standing full in me face and scolding, "Hush yo'self yo' scruffy ole vagabond! We has comp'ny here, an' yo'll rise 'em up fo' sure!"

  "Don't speak to me so, in me own abode, you cantankerous old cow!" I responded, regretting those words as soon as I uttered them. Darting aside, to avoid the thrust of her hand, I spat out some sort of apology and came silent.

  Annalea came 'cross the room to provide me a welcoming hug and a warm kiss. I held her tight and, turning me head to Mam', said, "There, now. That is a cordial welcome home for a tired man who has endured much: a nice hug and a kiss. Now, why can't you be more like that, woman?"

  Mam's countenance was still quite stern, and she replied, "I'd sooner kiss a dog's hind quarters, dan kiss dat grizzled ol' rump yo' calls a face! An' as to what yo' endured: I knows whar yo been, an' I knows what yo' 'endured'–yo' poor ol' bast'd."

  "And this 'dog' whose hind you've been 'romancing,' should I suspect he is the company for whom we are pussyfooting about?" I dared say this, having Annalea 'twixt me and Mam's violent right arm.

  "Oh, Papa, you are the silliest one!" Annalea spake, looking up to me with those big, soft eyes of hers. Those eyes were almost bewitching. When she looked at you, full-eyed like that, she literally captured your gaze–and focused your attention, complete on her. Everything else about you dissolved into the background. You could no more ignore Annalea than you could ignore the violent act of birth, or the commanding voice of God.

  Annalea continued, "Papa, have you not heard of the fate of the last two Spaniards from that ill-fated galleon?"

  "What?!" The spell was broken. "You'll not be telling me that 'dog' of which we jest is for real some Spanish cur?!"

  Mam' Tiére was upon me, thinking this violent outburst might cause me to harm Annalea–or meself. She forced me arms down to me sides and wrapped her own arms around me: effectively locking me in place, and making a struggle impossible. The strength in that woman's arms complemented the strength in her spirit–unexpected, unbelievable and overwhelming!

  The noise from this scuffle brought two men bounding into the room. While still struggling with Mam', one man grabbed me arms, from behind, and the other wrapped his huge hand 'round me throat. I knew it must be those omnipresent Spaniards! Mam' released me and shouted at the men, "Leave him be! He da massah of dis house!"

  Seemingly startled, the two men released their grasp. The younger man came 'round to face me, "A thousand apologies, Señor; we believed you to be an intruder."

  When again I could breathe and speak, I told him, "I am looking at the only intruders under me roof!"

  He was quick to respond with, "Apologies, again. I would never intrude to another man's abode, nor impose my company where unwelcome!"

  "Papa, please!" Annalea interposed. "No, Señors, stay! Papa, please sit at the table, and I'll fetch you some wine. Everyone just sit; we must talk."

  I was then too gone for standing. So, with no further disagreement or grumble, I sat meself at the head of the table and awaited me beverage. As Mam' hastened off to help Annalea fetch wine and goblets for all, the two Spaniards took chairs to either side of me. Not a word passed. We sat sullenly and silently.

  After what seemed like a fortnight, the ladies returned and set to serving each of us a drink. They also set out cheese and fresh fruit–which, for some reason, softened me mood. A good taste of wine, a good taste of food and the radiant glow of me own hearth, served to make me a more compliant man. And so, in a soft, relaxed voice I began a conversation, "So now, 'twould seem I am 'master of the Spanish keep.'"

  This resulted in spontaneous–albeit nervous–laughter from the ladies and the young Spaniard. The old Spaniard did not understand me English. He remained somber and stared at his companion curiously. The young Spaniard quickly translated for the older one. The old Spaniard remained somber, nodded his understanding to the younger, and stared at me curiously.

  The young Spaniard looked to me with a smile I did not return. "And we are most grateful to be in your 'keep,' Señor. Las mujeres–the women–your women–they've been most gracious to two such wretched souls–as we have become."

  I made some gentle noise about me inconvenience, about me perplexity on how the situation had come to land in me lap, and me personal anxiety 'bout providing sanctuary for me sworn enemies in me own home. Ignoring–as usual–me personal dilemma, Annalea and Mam' commenced a round of chitchat which drew us all into conversation: all, save the older Spaniard. The younger one, however, became quite loquacious. Seemingly well recovered of his recent ordeal, he smiled and laughed, and questioned and spun a few yarns. As fluidly–and fluently–as you please.

  Finally, I asked the question that had been in everyone's mind. "How come you to speak such good English? 'Tis near as good as me own."

  "'Tis, mayhaps, a bit better, Papa," Annalea felt obliged to contribute.

  A scolding look was me reply to her, and I continued me interrogation of that young-cock Spaniard. "Is it your situation to be planted in our colonies as spy for 'his Catholic Majesty'–the heretic king?"

  Again, the pup smiled at me. "Ah, no, Señor. I come not to spy, but to negotiate with his Royal Majesty's friends–and adversaries. I learned your language and your customs through years of living and studying in your homeland. I was a small child when my father was appointed by his Majesty as Ambassador to the Court of St. James. All my formative years were spent in England–save the occasional sojourn to España. My father was a loyal and devoted subject–and personal friend and confidant–of his Majesty. But he came, also, to admire and love the English people. When my mother died, after many unhappy years spent at the English court, my father married an Englishwoman–with the permission of his Majesty, and the English king.

  "As to myself: I was raised with the children of English royalty as my playmates and confidants. I was schooled and tutored with them–as they were. The royal court and courtiers filled my days, and my life. As did my father, I formed many close associations and bonds of friendship in England.

  "Yet, my father was able to encourage and nurture within me a devotion to España and pride for who and what I am. This he did while downplaying the rivalries between our two peoples and emphasizing how much we had to offer each other. I truly believe this was the agenda of his political life and his diplomatic career: not to seek advantage through some Machiavellian strategy, but to create bonds of trust and respect between our two nations, resulting in mutual advantage. A marriage–if you would–between two disparate but equal partners. He believed the benefits of such a partnership would be boundless.

  "Again–in this, I am my father's son. I share his beliefs and his hopes. When he died, I was offered a position at court by his Royal Majesty, when I returned to España. But I did not wish to spend
the next several years–perhaps, the rest of my life–as a courtier. Through my father's connections, and by the grace of his Royal Majesty, I was able to procure a position that would enable me to travel the world, to all his Majesty's possessions, and represent his interests in matters where a high-ranking official could not–or would not–be involved."

  Fearing the pup would never stop talking, I interrupted. "So much for your past. Your future depends on the will of our captain, not some 'Spanish Majesty.' Now, just so's I'll know, how are you known?" I noted the confused look on his face and readdressed the issue, "How are you summoned? What the hell are your names?"

  "Pardone, Señor. My companion is Gaspar Monastario, honourable sergeante in his Majesty's Royal Army. And I, Señor, am Don Estaban María Luis Philipe De la Montoya–your humble servant."

  I emitted an audible groan. "Praise God we've just the two of you to contend with. Were you an entire company, we'd lose the whole of a week on introductions, alone. Now, enough is too much. You may stay–for now. Go back to your rest. I'll sort this out on the morrow."

  "Oh, Papa...." Annalea thought to express her feelings.

  But enough was too much. "Bother me no more, tonight, child. I must sleep!" And so, finally, I did.

  Chapter XIII

  Kingston!