The Armada Legacy

  ‘This is my abode,’ Father Scally said, showing Ben inside. The furnishings were virtually non-existent, just a raised mat for a bed and a couple of stools carved from sections of tree trunks. In one corner was a tiny, primitive kitchen area that amounted to an open fire and a hook for hanging a pot. A battered wooden chest served as a cupboard.

  The priest ladled something that looked like stew from a large dish into a smaller bowl and handed it to Ben with a homemade spoon to eat with. ‘It’s not bad, actually,’ he reassured him. ‘And here’s a little something to wash it down with.’

  He reached into the cupboard and brought out two clay beakers and a bottle of colourless liquid. Pouring a generous measure into one of the beakers for Ben and then one for himself, he said, ‘It’s not quite the way we used to make it back home, but it’ll warm the cockles just the same, sure. And something tells me you could do with a drink. It’s been quite a day for you, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It has.’ Ben took a sip. ‘Wow. I haven’t tasted poteen since I left Galway.’

  Scally chuckled. ‘I get the potatoes from a fellow in San Tomás. Got me old still set up in the shed outside. So you lived in Galway, did you?’

  ‘Half Irish,’ Ben said.

  ‘Thought there was something good about you. Or half good, at least.’ Scally laughed. ‘Here, drink that up and I’ll pour you another. It’s not often I get to share a drink with a fellow countryman.’

  ‘Don’t you ever go back?’ Ben asked him.

  Scally shook his head. ‘Last time was almost twenty-seven years ago. But who’s counting? Not me.’

  ‘You’ve been living here all that time?’

  ‘Just about. Doing God’s work is all I ever want to do with meself.’

  ‘How well do the Sapaki take to having a missionary in their midst?’ Ben asked, genuinely curious.

  ‘For the first fifteen years or so they tolerated me; since then I don’t suppose they even notice me. I don’t interfere with their ways, and Heaven forbid I should ever go about preaching the Gospel at them. My work isn’t about foisting a foreign religion on these fine people. God wouldn’t want that, and neither would the Sapaki. They have their own gods – the spirits of the forest, of the animals and the river. No, I’m simply here to serve them as I’d serve all God’s children, not to brainwash them.’

  Ben looked around him at the primitive hut. ‘You gave up everything for this life.’

  Scally smiled. ‘It all seems very distant to me now. I can barely remember the Padraig Scally who served with the Royal Irish all those years ago.’

  ‘The Royal Irish Regiment?’ Ben asked in surprise.

  ‘Medical Corps, First Battalion, part of 16 Air Assault Brigade.’

  ‘I know it is,’ Ben said. ‘I was a soldier, too.’

  ‘Well, there you are. Two Irish squaddies sitting in the jungle.’

  ‘A long way from home,’ Ben said.

  ‘For you, maybe. For me, this is home.’

  ‘I admire you for having left it all behind,’ Ben said. He was being sincere.

  ‘To be honest, there wasn’t much holding me there any more. You get used to all the high living and Ferraris after a while, you know?’ Scally chuckled, then looked serious. ‘When the Lord called me to a better purpose, how could I refuse Him?’

  ‘I thought about it once,’ Ben admitted. ‘About the church. As a career, I mean. In fact I still think about it sometimes. Life just always seemed to have other plans for me.’

  ‘It’s never too late to let God into your life, son. He’s just waiting for the chance.’

  ‘I think even God would lose patience in my case,’ Ben said.

  ‘He never loses patience,’ Scally replied. ‘He loves us all. We just need to reach out to him. Here, have another drop of this.’

  ‘I could get used to it,’ Ben said. He took another sip. ‘Father, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for Brooke.’

  ‘I’m just glad she’s so much better. The fever was so strong at one point I was scared to leave her bedside. I get the impression you’ve been through a lot to find her.’

  ‘You might say that,’ Ben said. ‘She was in a lot of trouble.’

  ‘I won’t ask. Whatever it was, she’s safe here. And now she’s on the road to recovery, I’ll be taking me little boat down to San Tomás in the morning for supplies. I’ll be back the following day. Give you and our patient a chance to catch up, as long as you promise not to tire her.’

  ‘I’ll take good care of her,’ Ben said. ‘You can be sure of that.’

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Ben was sitting with Brooke in the sick bay the next morning, clasping her hand, when Father Scally knocked at the door and stepped inside.

  ‘Good morning, Padraig,’ Brooke said.

  ‘You look stronger,’ the priest noted with pleasure. ‘The colour’s back in your cheeks.’

  ‘I feel it,’ she said, and squeezed Ben’s hand. It was as if they’d never been apart.

  ‘Came to say I’m off,’ Father Scally told them cheerfully. ‘For what it’s worth. What cash there’s left for supplies would barely weigh down a butterfly.’

  Without hesitation, Brooke reached to the side of her bed and picked up the glittering necklace and bracelet she’d taken from Serrato. ‘Here. These are worth a lot of money.’

  ‘Now, child—’

  ‘Take them,’ she insisted. ‘Let them be used for something good. It’s the least I can do.’

  The priest gazed at the glittering jewels and whistled. ‘Then on behalf of the Sapaki people, I thank you kindly. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what diamonds. I wouldn’t trust meself not to go dropping them in the river, clumsy old fool that I am. But Uchu, Rumi and his girl Chaska are coming with me and they’ll guard these baubles with their lives.’

  Minutes later, Father Scally set off down the path towards the river, accompanied by the two tribesmen Uchu and Rumi, along with Rumi’s twelve-year-old daughter. A whole crowd of Sapaki went to see them off; Ben and Brooke could hear their clamouring from the sick bay.

  ‘They love him. He’s a wonderful man, isn’t he?’ Brooke said.

  Ben nodded. ‘Yes, he is.’

  All through that day, he could see Brooke getting stronger. By the afternoon she was able to take a few steps outside. He walked with her, holding her hand, and they gently explored the village. It was far more extensive than it had seemed at first. There were cultivated gardens filled with fruit and vegetables, and even a small cotton plantation from which the tribe produced their clothing. ‘It’s so beautiful,’ Brooke said.

  It was during those peaceful, happy hours that Ben toyed on and off with the idea of telling her about Jude. He still wasn’t sure how she’d take the news; and in the end he decided now was the wrong moment. He resolved to break it to her another time, maybe once he got her home to London.

  And anyway, there were other things he was burning to say to her first.

  The evening saw them joining the rest of the tribe for a communal feast of spit-roasted tapir, grilled fish and a kind of sweet potato mash that tasted far better than it looked. Ben introduced Brooke to Nico and Pepe and they all sat together to eat. Even with the pall of the recent massacre hanging over them, the atmosphere among the tribespeople was buoyant and upbeat. Only Tupaq, the chief, seemed preoccupied.

  ‘No problemo,’ Pepe replied through a mouthful of fish when Ben told him that the priest had said Brooke needed a few more days in the village to recuperate. ‘I’m in no hurry to go back,’ Pepe added mysteriously. Ben didn’t quite understand what he meant, until he noticed the covert glances and smiles that the young guy was exchanging with K’antu throughout the meal.

  When everyone was full of meat and fish, some Sapaki girls brought out beautifully spun baskets filled with bananas and papaya. By then, Ben thought Brooke was looking weary again, and insisted on walking her back to the sick bay to rest. ‘I feel so much better,’ she kept protesting.
br />   ‘I promised Father Scally I wouldn’t tire you out.’ He made her lie down, and used his Zippo to light the candle.

  ‘Will you stay with me a while?’ she asked, clasping his arm and tugging him down to sit by her on the bed.

  ‘Are you kidding? I told you I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight again. And I meant it.’ He paused, then added, ‘I really meant it.’

  She smiled. ‘What’s that mean?’

  He took a deep breath and thought, here goes. ‘It means I want to be with you, Brooke. As in …’

  ‘As in … ?’

  ‘I meant as in, will you have me?’ he said.

  The candlelight was shining in her eyes. ‘Have you?’ she repeated, cocking her head to one side.

  ‘Are you teasing me, or has this illness made you slow-witted?’

  ‘Hey, watch it,’ she warned him playfully.

  ‘I don’t want to be apart from you again,’ he said. ‘Not ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Ben Hope; in your own very strange way, are you by any chance proposing marriage to me?’

  It was the second time in his life he’d done this. It didn’t get any easier with experience. He felt no less bashful and awkward than he had that day years ago near Lake Bled, in Slovenia, when he’d asked Leigh Llewellyn the same question. ‘Maybe it’s not the right time,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Yes what?’ he asked, confused.

  ‘Yes I want to be with you too,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

  ‘It’s a deal, then,’ he said with mock indifference. His heart was thumping. It would have been the worst moment to keel over dead from a cardiac arrest.

  ‘But you have to promise me,’ she said. ‘No more adventures. No more running off and scaring the shit out of me. I don’t think I could handle it again.’

  ‘Look who’s talking.’

  ‘I’m serious,’ she said.

  ‘I’m serious too,’ he replied. ‘Serious about wanting to have a life with you. Forever.’

  ‘Then you promise. No matter what happens?’

  ‘No matter what happens,’ he said. ‘From now on my place is at home, with you. In fact …’ He hesitated.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was thinking …’ He paused again, was about to go on and then thought better of it. ‘No, you’ll probably just laugh.’

  ‘How do you know I’ll laugh? Try me. Tell me what you were thinking.’ She ran her hand down his arm. ‘Please, Ben.’

  ‘I was thinking about giving up Le Val. Letting Jeff take over; I know he’s full of his own ideas for the place. And maybe going back to finish my studies. We could rent a house in Oxfordshire, out in the country somewhere. I wouldn’t be in college more than a few hours each day, and the rest of the time we’d be together.’

  ‘You mean finishing your theology degree?’

  He nodded. ‘I know, you think it’s stupid – and maybe it is. But talking to Father Scally brought it all back to me. I can see a future for me there, Brooke.’

  ‘Ben, I think it’s wonderful. It’s what you always wanted, deep down.’

  He grinned ruefully. ‘Then again, you can’t always have what you want.’

  ‘You have me, don’t you?’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Oh, Ben, you know you do.’

  ‘What about your place in Richmond? Your career?’

  ‘I’d give them up tomorrow to be with you.’

  He looked at her. ‘You would?’

  ‘Of course I would, silly. Come here.’ She pulled him towards her and they kissed.

  ‘I’ve just remembered,’ he said, gently breaking their embrace. ‘I have something of yours.’ He took it from his pocket and showed her.

  Brooke gasped. ‘My little chain! Where did you find it?’

  ‘Just something I picked up along the way,’ he said. ‘Here, let me put it on you.’ He reached round her neck to fasten the clasp. She kissed him again, flung her arms round him and pressed herself up against him. ‘Oh, Ben. I still can’t believe you’re here with me.’

  ‘You can believe it,’ he said between smothering kisses.

  ‘Still don’t. You’re going to have to prove it to me.’

  ‘Stop it. You’re not strong enough for this.’

  ‘Try me,’ she murmured, pressing him down on the bed.

  A soft knock interrupted them and a figure appeared in the doorway.

  It was Pepe.

  ‘Shit. Sorry, guys. Ben, they’re asking for you over at the big hut.’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Tupaq wore a grave expression as Ben walked into the hut. Waskar, the red commander, and a circle of warriors sat around him. Ben could see something was up.

  Pepe was worried about his role as interpreter. ‘I wish the preacher was here, but it looks like this can’t wait.’

  ‘Do your best,’ Ben said. He listened as Tupaq began to speak, then waited for Pepe’s hesitant translation.

  ‘Uh, he says his people are being killed. Says pretty soon they’ll all be gone.’

  ‘Ask him why he’s telling me this,’ Ben said.

  Pepe interpreted. Tupaq looked earnestly at Ben and said a few more words. A glow of excitement appeared in Pepe’s eyes. ‘He says you killed White Knife. Says you can understand this enemy. You can help the Sapaki fight them.’

  Ben was silent for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Tell him I understand his problems. But this isn’t my fight. I have other responsibilities. Tell him I’m sorry. That’s just how it is.’

  ‘That’s fucked up, man,’ Pepe said. ‘That doesn’t come from him, it comes from me. These people, they need help. They’re all gonna die if someone doesn’t—’

  ‘Just tell him what I said,’ Ben said flatly.

  Tupaq listened to Pepe without a flicker of expression. His reply was brief.

  ‘What did he say?’ Ben asked.

  ‘So be it. You can go.’

  Ben left Tupaq’s hut feeling bad. He hadn’t walked five paces when Nico appeared from the shadows of a neighbouring hut. ‘Hey. So I hear you’re leaving, huh?’

  Ben nodded. ‘Just as soon as Brooke’s able to travel.’

  ‘I’m happy for you, man. You got what you wanted.’

  Ben could see the bitterness in Nico’s smile. ‘I haven’t forgotten why you’re here,’ he said. ‘I did my best to help you. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Nico said.

  ‘So what are you going to do now?’

  ‘Serrato’s still out there,’ Nico said. ‘I told you I ain’t going to give up. I meant what I said.’

  ‘You take care.’

  ‘Sure. You too, amigo.’

  They shook hands.

  And that was when they heard the cries of distress from the edge of the village.

  ‘What the hell?’ Nico said.

  ‘Something’s happening.’ Ben took off at a run through the village. Nico hobbled after him. ‘Whoa, wait!’

  The commotion grew louder as Ben reached the little winding track that led towards the river. He saw a group of Sapaki armed with bows and arrows. It looked as though they’d been out night-hunting, but they hadn’t come home bearing quarry for the village.

  Staggering up the path in their midst, leaning heavily on them for support, was the bloodied and torn figure of Padraig Scally.

  Ben and Nico helped the Sapaki men to carry him back towards the village. By now, the word had spread and more people were coming running. Ben and the others lowered him gently onto a bed of blankets that some of the women brought for him to lie on. The priest was so spent with exhaustion that he could barely speak. His clothes were filthy and soaking wet, his legs and torso running with blood where thorns had lacerated him.

  ‘What happened?’ Ben asked. ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘We were attacked on the way to San Tomás,’ Scally croaked. ‘On the river. Armed men in fast boats. They shot Uchu. He’s ?
?? he’s dead.’

  There was a cry from the growing crowd of distressed Sapaki people. A tribeswoman burst into tears as the meaning of the words ‘Uchu’ and ‘dead’ hit home. Uchu’s mother, Ben guessed. A number of other women led her away, howling.

  ‘Take it easy,’ Ben said as the priest burst into a fit of coughing. ‘Fetch some water,’ he told Pepe, who’d appeared at his side with Nico. Brooke had heard the commotion and was hovering at the back of the crowd, trying to hear over the Indians’ wails of anguish and shouts of anger.

  ‘Our boat overturned,’ Father Scally gasped when he’d sipped some water from a cup. ‘I managed to swim to the bank, hid in the reeds. I looked back and saw the bastards pulling Rumi and Chaska up out of the water. They were both alive. I climbed up on the bank. Nobody saw me. I just ran and ran.’ He screwed his eyes shut in torment. ‘I should have tried to save them. I should have done something …’

  ‘They’d have caught you, or shot you too,’ Ben said. ‘You did the only thing you could. How many of them were there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the priest groaned. ‘Dozens. They weren’t regular troops. Maybe a drug gang, though the Lord knows what they were doing so far upriver. Their leader was—’

  ‘A man in a suit?’ Nico growled. ‘Black hair, early forties?’

  Scally nodded.

  ‘Serrato,’ Nico said.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Rumi screamed and writhed on the bare patch of earth among the trees. Half blinded by the agony and the bright lights shining in his face he clutched his shattered, bloody kneecap with both hands.

  The man who’d fired the shot stood over the young Indian, lining the pistol up to blow away the other kneecap on his boss’s command.

  ‘That may refresh his memory,’ Serrato said. ‘Now ask him again.’

  Raoul Bujanda was one of several of the hired guns who could speak Quechua. He kicked Rumi savagely in the stomach. ‘Where’s your village?’ he yelled. ‘Tell us, you filthy fucking savage.’

  Rumi’s wide, desperate eyes locked on those of his daughter Chaska, in the strong grip of one of the men with a pistol to her head and his hand over her mouth. Her face was streaming with tears. Powerless to help her, he stared around him at the rest of the men standing on the river bank. There were so many of them. More were sitting in the strange boats bobbing on the water a few metres away. There was no possible chance of escape. Nobody was coming to save them.