Chapter 21

"What is your name?" Pedro asked the woman as she brought him a plate of food and a cup of mulled wine. When he spoke he addressed her in Spanish.

It was early the next morning and the sun was barely up over the small volcanic island. While he had spent the night aboard the Hawk, standing at watch for part of it, he had come ashore early with a purpose in mind. Pedro had come back to the bordello to have something to eat and drink before meeting with his friends and lieutenants. There was a lot of work that needed to be done before his small armada could put to sea again and he wanted to make certain that everything went according to plan. The woman he was speaking to was a young Moorish girl. Like every woman that he had seen so far in the bordello she looked tired and underfed and her garments were little more than rags. While she moved and acted with humility as she shuffled about attending Pedro, Pedro could tell that her spirit hadn't been completely broken. In the few instances where his eyes had caught hers Pedro had seen that her eyes burned with resentment, particularly when Pedro addressed the girl.

"The men here called me Puta," the woman replied coldly in broken Spanish. As she answered him she moved to step away in the hope of distancing herself from him. Her movements clearly spoke of a fear of rebuke for her reply.

"Let me try this again," Pedro sighed softly, switching to Arabic as he continued to speak to the woman. "By what name were you called by your father?"

The woman hesitated when Pedro spoke to her in Arabic. Her eyes still burned with anger but there was hesitation in her movement. The fear that had been there seemed to fade away. After a second or two the woman answered Pedro.

"I was called Zama by my family before these men came and took me away," the woman told Pedro, speaking in Arabic. It was all that she said to him.

'Greetings Zama," Pedro said politely to the woman, "and thank-you for attending to my needs this morning. I am grateful for your kindness. Please sit so that I may speak with you. I promise I will not hurt you."

The woman hesitated for another second or two before moving towards a chair at the table. Her face was filled with bewilderment. Eventually she did what she was told. Still she sat with care, placing herself in a seat at the other end of the table, well out of the reach of Pedro.

"Thank you Zama for joining me," Pedro said once the young woman had taken a seat. "I wanted to speak to you this morning before my men arrive and matters take up my time. By the way, allow me to introduce myself to you properly. I am Dom Pedro de la Vega, the Count de Alvarez and your friend. I mean no harm to you or to any of the women here on this island. In fact I am here to set you free. What do you think of that?"

The young woman did not reply. Instead she kept her head bowed and her voice silent. Even so she let her gaze flicker towards Pedro from time to time as if she was weighing what he had said to her, not believing what she had heard and wanting to see if there was truth showing in his face.

"Tell me Zama," Pedro told the young woman after waiting a moment or two to see if she would respond, "what would happen to you if I were to place you upon a ship back to your village. Would your family welcome you with open arms?"

"No," Zama replied curtly saying nothing else.

"And the other women here," Pedro asked after another moment of silence. "Would they be welcomed home or not if I were to carry them back to whence they were born?"

"No," Zama responded again, just as curtly as before.

"Then what am I to do with you and your friends?" Pedro asked as he picked up his cup of mulled wine and sipped it. "I certainly cannot leave you here upon this island. There is no food here and very little in the way of water. You would die here if I simply abandoned you."

Again Zama did not reply immediately. Instead she pursed her lips and then chewed on them as if she was trying to keep herself from replying. Her face flushed red with anger as she sat in silence, yet her eyes kept flickering towards where Pedro sat. Eventually the young woman gave Pedro an answer.

"We are whores," Zama told Pedro bluntly. "Do with us as you wish."

"I wish to free you and your friends," Pedro declared sharply in a tone that seemed to slap out at the young woman, "but you seem not to want my help. Why is that?"

Again Zama remained silent for a second or two before replying. This time her body had tensed at the sharpness of Pedro's words and it appeared to him that she was getting ready to run. Still she did not. Instead she answered him with a voice filled with defiance.

"I have told you that we are no more than whores," Zama stated coldly, lifting her eyes up to gaze directly into Pedro's as she spoke. "Do with us as you wish. None of us care anymore."

"Is that true?" Pedro asked without hesitation, his tone softening again as he replied. As he spoke he noticed that other women had entered the room while he had been in conversation with Zama. They were all listening in to the discussion, yet they were all hanging back as if hesitant to be drawn into it. Pedro looked at them pointedly and then spoke again.

"Perhaps I should ask the question of these women instead?" Pedro inquired loudly, still speaking in Arabic. "Perhaps one of them can give me a better answer?"

Zama said nothing in response to Pedro's words nor did the women he was looking at. Frustrated Pedro decided to take another tack.

"So be it," Pedro said not addressing anyone in particular. "Zama has declared that you are all whores and as such I may do with you as I please. I will be sending a pair of ships south tomorrow carrying prisoners for the mines at Elmina and plunder for my factory on Eko. Since I have been told that none of you will be welcomed home if I were to send you there, I will send you south with my ships. Once in Eko I will put you in the hands of my old teacher. The man has taken on some responsibilities that I have not had time to tend to, including the care of some orphans that I've sort of adopted and some women and children that I've spared from slavery. I will turn you over to him and he will see to your needs. If you want work he will find it for you and if you wish to remain whores as Zama has branded you, then he will find you a place to practice your trade that is at least clean and safe. Beyond that I can offer you nothing else. Once there you will need to decide for yourself what your life will become. I will not do it for you."

Pedro's rant took Zama and the other women by surprise. Zama glanced over at the other women for a moment or two before turning her gaze back towards that of Pedro's. His eyes met hers in a stern, challenging manner that brought her up short. Licking her lips hesitantly, Zama forced herself to speak to Pedro again.

"Why?" the young woman asked as simply as possible.

"Because I am not one of the men who took you from your villages," Pedro replied bluntly, "in any shape or form and because the master of those same men has taken my cousins as prisoners just as these men took you. I intend to find them and free them from whatever fate befell them and if it is as bad as what has happened to you, then I will take them in my arms and I will keep them close to me. I will not turn my backs on them if they have been made whores by men who have forsaken Allah and their own Christian God. I will instead show them that I love them no matter what."

Zama pursed her lips again as if she was reflecting upon what Pedro had just said to her. She did so for a second and then she looked at the other women. The other women simply nodded in silence when Zama's gaze met theirs.

"Then we will go to this place that you just spoke of," Zama declared softly when she turned back to speak to Pedro, "and we will see what waits for us there. It may be a better life and it may not be, but as you have said we cannot remain here when you have sailed away. Still I will thank-you my lord for the courtesy you have shown me today and I hope that you find your cousins well."

"If Allah wills it," Pedro intoned almost automatically, "then it will be so. I pray the very same thing."

"Your Excellency," Don Diego declared with great concern, "you need rest."

"Rest!" Don Hugo shouted back at his servant. "I have no time for rest. I must think!"

Don Hugo was standing over his desk in his study. Papers lay strewn about the surface of it in a haphazard manner. Don Hugo wasn't even looking at them. He was instead staring angrily at Don Diego. The man's velvet doublet was stained with drink and his eyes were red from a lack of sleep. The Spanish ambassador to the Portuguese court looked haggard at best.

"But your Excellency," Don Diego pressed, "if you do not rest you will not be able to think."

"Stop nagging me Diego," Don Hugo snarled back at him. "I will rest when these matters have been taken care of and not until. Now tell me what news you have heard this morning. Has my little songbird begun to sing?"

"Forgive me your Excellency but I bear more bad news," Don Diego muttered in reply, lowering his eyes as he spoke. "The woman has been taken prisoner by the king's guard."

"What?" Don Hugo exclaimed with surprise upon his face. "What is this you're telling me? What happened?"

"The lady began to sing her song as you requested Excellency," Don Diego answered in a lowered voice. "Unfortunately those who heard her words proved to be more loyal to the crown than we thought. They bore witness against her rather than spread her tales as you had hoped, revealing what the woman had told them to the king's chamberlain. The man had her arrested in the night and now she is being put to the question of the king's inquisitor. I fear she will reveal all."

"No," Don Hugo groaned aloud, throwing up his hands as he spoke and covering his face with them as he did. "By what evil have I've been so cruelly betrayed. First Don Henrique flees when I wish to expose his treason before the King of Portugal and now my agent within the queen's chambers has been exposed. Will nothing go right in this matter?"

"Please Excellency," Don Diego pleaded with his master. "You must rest and then make other plans. I fear that all is undone as you have just declared and if you do not think of escape then all will be lost."

"Escape," Don Hugo shouted back at his servant in disgust, clenching his hands and slamming them down upon the surface of his desk. "I will not run from this matter. If my allies turn their backs on me then I will destroy them all. I have men and guns and I will make use of them."

"Your Excellency," Don Diego threw out in protest.

"Silence you cowardly cur," Don Hugo spat back at Don Diego silencing him, "and listen up. I do not intend to flee this city or this nation. As I have declared I have men and guns and money to buy more. You dog will go and fetch them for me while I stay here and hold this residence against those who would depose me. You will take my royal galley and you will sail to the islands and fetch me my troops. You will bring them back to me at once and you will not fail me in this matter. If you do I will hunt you to the ends of this Earth long before I die and I will make you pay. Do you hear me Diego?"

"Yes Excellency, I hear you and I will obey," Don Diego answered in a chastened manner. "I will sail on the morning tide."

"Then be gone with you dog," Don Hugo barked dismissively, "and do what I have told you. I have other matters to deal with that are more important than this. When you see Alfonso you are to send the man to me. I have work for his sword today."

"As you command Excellency," Don Diego muttered softly in reply, bowing as he backed out of the room. "I will obey."

"How are things progressing?" Pedro asked in a low voice as he walked up to where Ishmael and Bartholomew were standing. The two men looked quickly at him as he spoke and then turned their gaze back to what they had been looking at.

"Good," Ishmael replied first, nodding towards the work crews that were stretched between the shore of the cove and the stone warehouses of the settlement. All the men in the work gang wore shackles about their ankles. Near them stood men armed with swords and muskets. It was clear that they were keeping a good eye on the workers, prodding them with the end of a blade whenever they slacked off. Ishmael smiled as he continued speaking. "I've got a party of volunteers helping to load the Virago with the treasure you plan to send back to Eko."

"Volunteers?" Pedro asked with a smile and a chuckle. "How did they volunteer?"

"I gave them a choice of working," Ishmael replied without hesitation, "or dying. Only the first man I asked refused. The rest agreed quickly after seeing me slit the man open. With encouragement they will have the job done well before dark."

"That is good to know," Pedro responded with a grin, barely able to keep from laughing.

"I thought you'd appreciate it," Ishmael chuckled in reply before getting serious again. With a quick look at Pedro he went on. "By the way, we've separated most of the prisoners like you asked us to do last night. Of those we took yesterday, fifteen of them were men who had served aboard the Spanish expedition to the New World that Don Eduardo and Don Manuel were part of. I've placed them in chains aboard the Valencia for transport back to Portugal and then on to Spain. I've also given them Captain Luis Delgado as a present, at least for the trip to Portugal. I'm certain that King Manuel will have the final say in this matter."

"I'm sure he will," Pedro acknowledged without hesitation, "though I am certain that once the matter has been discussed that the king will see the justice in allowing Spain to punish the man and not Portugal. If nothing else it will gain him favour with the Spanish court."

"True my lord," Ishmael stated in agreement.

"What about the other prisoners?" Pedro asked knowing that his captain had more to say. "How many have chosen slavery over death?"

"Most of them have chosen to be sold into slavery rather than feed the crows back in Portugal," Bartholomew interjected into the conversation. "Those that have are the men now working before us. I think most of them hope to escape once we have sold them off. I doubt any of them are aware of the conditions in the mines. Still a life as a slave must look more appealing than the hangman's noose."

"Perhaps they are right," Pedro wondered aloud and then paused and sighed. "I doubt it though but that is their choice and they will have to live with it. In the meantime we have other matters to deal with. I don't see the Santa Louisa. Has she returned yet?"

"Yes," Bartholomew informed Pedro. "I had lookouts posted aboard ships and along the shore near the mouth of this cove and they reported her offshore an hour ago. When I heard that I sent a small boat out to meet it. Given the fact that we're packed into this cove as it is I felt that another ship riding at anchor here is something we don't need. Besides the Santa Louisa is the smallest of the ships here and it is not like we will need her as a transport. She can patrol at sea until the Virago sails in the morning and then she can escort the Virago back to Eko."

"You've forgotten the women that I'm sending back to Ibrahim to take care of," Pedro said in reply, glancing over at his first mate and friend. "With the Virago full of both plunder and prisoners you might want to rethink you plans. Perhaps you might load the women up in the small boats once they've finished being used as ferries and transport them out to the Santa Louisa tonight. I'd like to see the women gone before morning. Once dawn has risen I'll want to be out to sea."

"So be it," Bartholomew grunted in response. Then he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I'll see to it well before dark. I don't want to lose any of those women at sea. It just wouldn't do. The last thing we need is bad luck."

"Agreed," Pedro stated returning his friend's smile. "Nor do we need for men sniffing about before we sail. I've given my promise to them that they will be safe and I intend to keep it. In fact my friend, even as I think about it, I've decided that I want everyone aboard ship tonight well before dark. I wish to sail upon the morning tide and the last thing I want is to be chasing down men as ships prepare to raise anchor. That includes the officers."

"All right then my young lord," Bartholomew chuckled softly in answer to that. "I'll go see to it now."

"We need to speak Alfonso," Don Diego gasped out after storming into the man's quarters.

It was well before dawn of the next day and Alfonso had just gone to bed. At the sudden arrival of Don Diego the man leapt from his bed and he reached for his sword. Only the hiss of Don Diego's trembling voice kept him from drawing the weapon.

"Have care Alfonso and be quiet," Don Diego snapped quickly at the other man. "I need to speak to you."

"What is it?" Alfonso asked in a low voice, noting with interest the concern he saw on the older man's face. As he spoke Alfonso released his grip upon the hilt of his sword. As he did, he turned and looked at the man who had stormed into his quarters. Immediately he saw that Don Diego was dressed for travel. Over his shoulder it looked like he was carrying sacks of coin.