Catalina requested nervously, for she herself would never have dared to speak to Pedro in so challenging a manner. Whatever had become of her sweet little sister? "You haven't met Francisco. Here, Francisco, come and kiss your tia Magdalena hello," she said, pulling her son between Magdalena and the glowering Pedro. "And I must know about Madre . She hasn't..."
"No."
"Ah, that is good then, for we could not sail until several unexpected passengers came aboard and delayed our departure from Seville. Had anything happened to Madre before I could arrive, and all because of those men," she confided, glancing around to give them a scathing look, but they had disappeared. "Where did they go?"
"Who?" Magdalena asked, glancing around curiously and sett ing Don Pedro's mind at ease, fo r it was apparent that she had not seen anyone but Catalina when she had come rushing down the stairs to greet them.
"Well, I could never forgive Pedro for insisting we wait for their arrival. For me, I have had enough of the sea. I intend to stay here with Francisco and the girls when Pedro sails with them for-"
" Silencio , Catalina," Don Pedro silenced his wife's prattle mid-sentence. "You do not know what you are saying," he warned her. "Magdalena is not interested in hearing about where next the Estreall D'Alba sails and what business my passengers are about. Merchants," he said, shrugging, as if he need say no more.
"We sail to France and Padre says that I will sail with them, and one day I will be a great captain like he is," Francisco told them proudly. "Only I don't think I want to be a captain. I get sick."
Don Pedro looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel as he glared down at his son, but already Magdalena and Catalina were talking about everything under the sun, and his three excitable daughters were giggling and twirling around as they presented themselves to their aunt, each vying for her attention.
"¡Dios!" Don Rodrigo cried out as he came hurrying down the stairs and was engulfed by the new arrivals. In the confusion, Don Pedro took the opportunity of slipping away, one thought in his mind: getting his passengers safely back aboard ship before Magdalena recognized them as Englishmen.
But Don Pedro was to receive another shock. When he entered the courtyard, he found his passengers being confronted by a small, red-headed child of not more than five or six years of age. Were the surprises of this day never to end? The impertinent creature, he thought as he overheard her conversation and realized that his worst fears were confirmed-this could only be Geoffrey Christian's daughter.
"I've never seen anyone with one blue and one brown eye. Do you see different things out of each eye?" Lily asked the young gentleman standing so uncomfortably before her. "There's a man in our village, near Highcross, that is where I live in England, who has pink-colored eyes and white hair. He doesn't have very many friends, but Fathers says we should be kind to him. Did you know that they sometimes hang people or burn them at the stake for having one blue and one brown eye? They say they are witches," Lily told the gentleman, who found himself blinking uncontrollably. "Father says the officials are frightened fools. Are you a priest?" Lily demanded of the robed figure, turning her attention away from the other two gentlemen, much to their relief.
"We do not have many in England anymore. There used to be an abbey near Highcross, but it got burned to the ground and the priests fled to France. Hello!" Lily said as Don Pedro approached, his expression horrified. "I'm Lily Christian. Who are you? Are you sick?"
Don Pedro glanced at the two Englishmen, but the one who had caught Lily's attention was still staring in fascination at the child, and the other, his hat pulled low across his forehead, stood in the shadows. As Don Pedro drew closer, the priest beckoned him to his side and they began to talk in low tones, the Spanish words
"No."
"Ah, that is good then, for we could not sail until several unexpected passengers came aboard and delayed our departure from Seville. Had anything happened to Madre before I could arrive, and all because of those men," she confided, glancing around to give them a scathing look, but they had disappeared. "Where did they go?"
"Who?" Magdalena asked, glancing around curiously and sett ing Don Pedro's mind at ease, fo r it was apparent that she had not seen anyone but Catalina when she had come rushing down the stairs to greet them.
"Well, I could never forgive Pedro for insisting we wait for their arrival. For me, I have had enough of the sea. I intend to stay here with Francisco and the girls when Pedro sails with them for-"
" Silencio , Catalina," Don Pedro silenced his wife's prattle mid-sentence. "You do not know what you are saying," he warned her. "Magdalena is not interested in hearing about where next the Estreall D'Alba sails and what business my passengers are about. Merchants," he said, shrugging, as if he need say no more.
"We sail to France and Padre says that I will sail with them, and one day I will be a great captain like he is," Francisco told them proudly. "Only I don't think I want to be a captain. I get sick."
Don Pedro looked as if he were about to burst a blood vessel as he glared down at his son, but already Magdalena and Catalina were talking about everything under the sun, and his three excitable daughters were giggling and twirling around as they presented themselves to their aunt, each vying for her attention.
"¡Dios!" Don Rodrigo cried out as he came hurrying down the stairs and was engulfed by the new arrivals. In the confusion, Don Pedro took the opportunity of slipping away, one thought in his mind: getting his passengers safely back aboard ship before Magdalena recognized them as Englishmen.
But Don Pedro was to receive another shock. When he entered the courtyard, he found his passengers being confronted by a small, red-headed child of not more than five or six years of age. Were the surprises of this day never to end? The impertinent creature, he thought as he overheard her conversation and realized that his worst fears were confirmed-this could only be Geoffrey Christian's daughter.
"I've never seen anyone with one blue and one brown eye. Do you see different things out of each eye?" Lily asked the young gentleman standing so uncomfortably before her. "There's a man in our village, near Highcross, that is where I live in England, who has pink-colored eyes and white hair. He doesn't have very many friends, but Fathers says we should be kind to him. Did you know that they sometimes hang people or burn them at the stake for having one blue and one brown eye? They say they are witches," Lily told the gentleman, who found himself blinking uncontrollably. "Father says the officials are frightened fools. Are you a priest?" Lily demanded of the robed figure, turning her attention away from the other two gentlemen, much to their relief.
"We do not have many in England anymore. There used to be an abbey near Highcross, but it got burned to the ground and the priests fled to France. Hello!" Lily said as Don Pedro approached, his expression horrified. "I'm Lily Christian. Who are you? Are you sick?"
Don Pedro glanced at the two Englishmen, but the one who had caught Lily's attention was still staring in fascination at the child, and the other, his hat pulled low across his forehead, stood in the shadows. As Don Pedro drew closer, the priest beckoned him to his side and they began to talk in low tones, the Spanish words
Similar Books
