Chapter 4

"So there she is," Bartholomew muttered in a tired voice. "We're finally here."

The older man was standing in the bow of the Hawk gazing out at the vista that lay before him. Pedro stood beside him doing basically the same. It was the first time in weeks that either man had stood together side-by-side to share a word or even a thought. Bartholomew had in fact just rowed over from the Virago and this was the first time in over two weeks that he had stood upon the deck of the Hawk.

"We are," Pedro muttered thoughtfully a moment later in reply. "For better or worse this will be our home for the next little while."

Pedro's mind was not on what his eyes were seeing. His thoughts were in fact far away. While the two weeks and some had been uneventful for the most part, once they had gotten underway again, it had been stressful. Pedro had split the surviving Spanish crew between the Hawk and the Virago and the men had to be watched day and night. Tensions had risen a couple of times when the wounded amongst the Spaniards had died. Pedro and Father Gerome had done what they could for the men but it had not been enough. Thankfully the voyage had been an easy one. The seas had remained calm and the winds had remained favourable for the most part. They had made good time and they had avoided any dangers that could have ended their journey with finality that none desired. In fact the only excitement during the passage, beyond the seizing of the Virago was the chance meeting with the Bella Maria.

The Bella Maria was a carrack sailing under the flag of Portugal and the pennant of House Alverez. The skipper of the vessel was a long time retainer of Pedro's father and a faithful servant to his uncle. When the two craft had spotted each other they had come along side each other so that they could share news. The Bella Maria was homeward bound laden with wealth and trade goods from Madagascar. The vessel had stopped in Eko along the way home.

The news they carried was sparse at best and no better than what they had heard in Lisbon from Dom Jose. There had been no new word on Pedro's father or about the men that had journeyed with him up the Kongo River. It had been expected, given what Pedro knew from Captain Santiago, but it still had proven distressing. Pedro had secretly hoped that the intelligence he now carried would prove wrong. Still the meeting was not a waste. It allowed Pedro to pass on copies of the letters he had taken from the Virago. He gave them to the captain of the Bella Maria for safe keeping and onward delivery to his uncle upon the ship's arrival in Lisbon. He had also passed on his own letter telling of the battle with the Virago and what he had learned from Captain Santiago. He hoped that with the letters and his forewarning his uncle could act against the Condor before further calamity could befall the family. By now, Pedro thought silently to himself as his mind returned to the present, the Bella Maria should have arrived in Lisbon. It made him wonder what words would be spoken by the Condor when he learned that he had lost another ship. The thought made Pedro frown darkly in response. Instinctively he knew that nothing good would come out of it when the Condor learned of it. As Pedro reflected on this thought a boat slowly rowed into view, headed towards the Hawk. The small pirogue carried a pilot from the shore. The sight of the craft stirred Pedro into action. __________________________________________________

"What is this you're telling me," Don Hugo barked at his man. "How can this be?"

It was the morning of the same day but the place was the residence of the Spanish ambassador to Portugal, high on the cliffs overlooking the grand harbour of Lisbon. As Pedro had suspected the Bella Maria now lay anchored there and word from the ship had finally reached the ears of the Count of Cordoba.

"It is true Excellency," Don Diego replied in a frantic manner, feeling quite anxious as he defended himself against the steely gaze of his master. "Our spies in the taverns of the port have heard it first hand from the crew of the Bella Maria. They say that the Hawk met with the Bella Maria near the great western cape and that Captain Pedro spoke with the captain of the Bella Maria. They also said that the Virago sailed in the wake of the Hawk and that the vessel flew the pennants of House Alverez."

"No," Don Hugo declared refusing to accept what he was being told. "How could it have happened?"

"It did your Excellency," Don Diego sighed in exasperation, "and that is all that I know."

That did not go over well with the Condor. In a fit of rage the tall, swarthy man slammed his wine cup down hard against the top of his desk, spilling the contents of his cup. At the same instance the Condor had pushed himself away from his desk and he had stood up in an abrupt manner ... His actions immediately knocked his chair he had been sitting on over onto the ground. Too furious to worry about such things, the Condor ignored the overturned chair and the mess he had made on his desk. Instead he focused his gaze upon Don Diego, pointing at him with a long, boney finger as he spoke.

"That is not good enough Diego," Don Hugo snarled in a feral manner, "and I will not accept it. Somehow that whelp has bested me again and I want to know how that was done. More importantly I want to know what word he has sent back to his blasted uncle. There were papers hidden aboard the Virago and held in trust by Captain Santiago. If that whelp found them or Captain Santiago has failed me as you suggest then it may go bad for us. I need to know more."

"Yes your Excellency," Don Diego muttered in response, "I will see what can be done."

"You will do more than that man," Don Hugo growled forcefully. "It has been a week now since our man in Dom Roberto's villa has turned up dead outside our gates. The message there was clear to us that Dom Roberto knows that we spy on him. I cannot let that pass. I need intelligence and I need to know what Dom Roberto is plotting. You will find me another spy who can move about the villa undetected and you will find me one for the palace and you will do it today. Do you understand this Don Diego?"

"It will be as you say Excellency," Don Diego responded with a curt bow of his head. "I will go and tend to it now."

At that the man turned and left the room leaving his master fuming behind him. Don Hugo stood and watched him go. As the catch on the heavy door to his study snapped close behind the departing man, Don Hugo started with surprise. He had heard a second sound just a fraction of a moment after the click of the catch. It sounded like a scuff of a hurried tread, as if someone was trying to get away but it had not come from beyond the door and from Don Diego. It had come from above his head. For a moment Don Hugo just stood there and listened. When he heard nothing else he just shook his head and stepped away from his desk. Walking towards the great fireplace that dominated the wall that stood behind his desk, Don Hugo reached out and he drew down the cord that hung there. A moment later there was a knock on his study's door and at his beckoning it opened and a servant stepped in wearing the livery of his house.

"Yes your Excellency," the man muttered in humility to his master.

"Clean up this mess," the Count of Cordoba ordered harshly, "and be quick about it. I have work that I need to get done."

"It's not that bad," Bartholomew said absentmindedly, drawing Pedro back out of his thoughts about the voyage that they had just completed. "The sky is clear and the air is fair. I've been to places further down the coast where it rains most days and the air is fetid with decay. I would rather have this than that."

"I must agree with you my friend," Pedro muttered in reply, giving the vista another look over as he did. "This place is better than some and it will make a good haven for the time we are here."

Eko stood on a large island to the west of the great river. It was one of hundreds of islands. It was larger than most and it served to anchor a string of smaller islands to the coast so that the great lagoon remained sheltered from the ravages of the gulf. Unlike most of the islands in the area, Eko held a native population. Over two thousand men, women, and children lived there. Some were fishermen who plied the waters of the lagoon and the nearby tributaries of the great river in small canoes and pirogues in pursuit of fish and crustaceans, while others were farmers. Date groves stood on one side of the island and the ripe fruit was readily available in the village market. His uncle's ships often carried a load northward for the markets of Europe. That was the other force in the village. Some of the men were traders and that was why his uncle had built a factory on the island. The traders of Eko travelled the great river and they went where Christian men could not. They brought back many staples that were needed in the village and by the people at the factory. They also brought back ivory, exotic brass work, and finely woven fabric. These the factory bought in quantity for shipping back to Lisbon and beyond. Some locals even drew salt from the gulf that could be sold in Elmina in exchange for gold.

The factory stood on a point of land that jutted out into the lagoon. There a brick wall had been raised about it. The wall would not stop a bombardment from cannon, but it did separate the factory from the locals. While relationships were good with the locals, it was wiser to live behind the wall and out of sight. No one wanted to offend the other.

Pedro gazed at the factory and wondered how safe was it now that he had an idea of what the Condor was up to in these parts. He could see the factory from where Bartholomew and he were standing. The wall was at least twenty feet high and a few feet thick. There were covered towers in each of its corners and at its two gates. He knew from a previous visit that a pair of cannons stood on the battlements overlooking the lagoon. The guns were light but they had range and they could still do damage if handled properly. As well there were fifty men already stationed at the factory who served primarily as guards. With his own men added to that force and the guns of the Hawk and the Virago, it would require a large force to do them any harm. Still there were risks and Pedro was forced to think about it.

"The pilot is coming along side," Bartholomew informed Pedro drawing his attention and thoughts back to the immediate. "We should meet him and get the Hawk underway. I'm certain that our men will want to get land under their feet now that we are here."

"We'll have to keep an eye on them," Pedro stated in response, turning away from the bow as he spoke. "We don't want any problems with the locals on our first day in port."

"Naturally," Bartholomew muttered in agreement, "I will see to it later. For now let's meet this pilot and get the Hawk tied up to the jetty so we can start unloading her. After that we will do the same with the Virago. From the look of it we're in for a very long day."

It did turn into a long day for Pedro and Bartholomew and the crews of both vessels. The pilot guided them through the shallows that made up much of the lagoon and into the jetty that stood empty by the main gate of the factory. Once there he had left via his small boat and he had headed out to the Virago. Bartholomew had gone with him to captain the ship to its berth. While Bartholomew was off dealing with that matter Pedro had stayed behind to deal with matters on the Hawk.

The first matter was the Spanish prisoners. There were sixteen of them left including Captain Santiago and Pedro wanted them under lock and key and out of his hair before he dealt with anything else. Fortunately a guard was waiting on the jetty when the Hawk came along side and they boarded once the vessel was tied up.

"Dom Pedro," a short, swarthy man said in greeting as he approached Pedro. The man was at least twice Pedro's age and perhaps even more. He wore dark leather for clothing. His jerkin was padded and studded with iron and he carried both a longsword at his hip and a long knife. He had long wavy hair and a hooked nose and a scar upon his right cheek. His eyes danced with pleasure upon lighting on Pedro. A welcoming smile was upon his lips.

The man was Ishmael de Coimbra, the only son of a Portuguese crusader and a Saracen woman that he had brought back with him from his time in North Africa. The man was the captain of the factory guard and a loyal retainer to the House of Alverez.

"Ishmael," Pedro shouted in reply, extending a hand in greetings towards the man. "It is good to see you my friend."

"And it is good to see you my lord," Ishmael cheerfully replied, "considering the times we live in. From the look of it you had fun on the way here."

"A minor skirmish Ishmael and nothing else," Pedro replied in a dismissive manner. "The Condor sent his seadogs after the Hawk and they quickly learned that a hawk has talons and that she is a very agile bird. We took them in the stern and raked them badly before boarding them. Of almost fifty men only sixteen now live including the ship's captain."

"And what would you have me do with them?" Ishmael asked, his face turning serious as he spoke.

"Hold them for now," Pedro said in reply, "and have your men listen carefully to them in the night. The captain is to be kept separately. I have given him terms and he has given me information. If his information proves true then I will cut him loose and pay him well. In truth he is but a sailor caught up in the plots of others. We might be able to find him work here. If not or we cannot trust him, then we will deal with him at another time. As for the rest, twelve of the men are Spaniards and are sworn men of the Condor. I do not trust them free for I am certain that they would do us wrong. Listen to them as I've said, but if nothing is heard by the end of the week, I think we may have to deal with them ourselves. Either they will choke on their food or they will be sold to slavers to be carried back to the Moors. I'm certain that someone can find chains that will hold them."

"And what about the other four men?" Ishmael asked with curiosity. "They are not Spaniards."

"No they are not," Pedro replied with a shake of his head. "One is the pilot of the Virago. He is from Antwerp and the Spanish lowlands and I am certain that given a chance he would join us with a little eagerness. I have spoken to him myself and he has provided me a little information although most of what he has told me I already knew from his captain. Still he has been cooperative. The other three are ordinary crewmen. One is a German who is familiar with the guns, and the other two are Italian. All three have pleaded with me to spare them and they have offered their service in exchange for their lives. So far I have not promised them anything. I would suggest your men listen to them the closest. Do you have any amongst your guards who speak German or Italian?"

"No my lord," Ishmael replied with a shake of his head.

"We'll speak to Henrique later," Pedro told the man, "and Bartholomew and they might be able to help you out. The prisoners all speak Spanish and a few speak Portuguese but if the two Italians choose to plot against us they will use their own tongue."

"I will do as you say, my lord," Ishmael stated with a bow of his head.

"Good," Pedro muttered in response before slapping the man on the arm in a friendly gesture, "then I will leave you to it. When you are done, meet me at the factor's residence. There are things that I have learned that you should know about and I think the sooner we speak of them the better."

"As you command Dom Pedro," Ishmael declared with another bow. "I will be waiting for you when you are done here."

The factor's house stood in the centre of the enclosure that surrounded the factory. It had a wall around it, although of no great defensive nature and it had two gates leading into it. Each gate was guarded by a man with a brace of pistols and a sword and each gate had a name. The one facing the jetty was called the 'Port Gate' and the one facing the village of Eko was called the "Town Gate". Pedro entered the residence through the 'Port Gate'.

The building was large and it covered a fair piece of land. It needed to be that way. While the second story of the building served as the residence of the factor and his guests, the main floor served as the administrative heart of the factory. Here inventories were kept and contracts were stored and trade was conducted. Here also the servants lived and worked.

"Welcome Master," an old man muttered in fluent, although accented Portuguese, when Pedro finally arrived at the residence. By then it was already becoming dark and his way had been guided by torchlight. The man's tone and manner were very respectful. "May I offer water to cleanse your hands and feet and to refresh you and your honoured guests?"

The man was Omar. He was short and wiry and a well weathered man of local heritage who had a look of strength about him even though he looked aged. The man was the master of the house and he had served Pedro's father for at least ten years. The man was old but skilled and he knew his duties without having to think. This was one of him. It was custom to offer anyone entering a house in these parts the opportunity to wash away the dust of their journey. It was both a courtesy and a superstition that was ingrained in the local traditions. Many feared that evil clung to a man and only by ritually cleansing oneself before entering a domicile would prevent that evil from entering in with them. Behind Omar there stood two females waiting patiently to attend them. One carried a basin of scented water and the other clean towels.

"With pleasure," Pedro willingly stated to the old retainer.

The ritual did not take long. Pedro dipped his hands quickly into the basin of scented water and then he splashed a little on his tired face. He then dipped his hands in the water a second time and this time he gave them a good wash. When he was done he stepped aside to allow Bartholomew to do the same while he accepted a towel from the second woman. As he did, Pedro glanced at the woman with interest. The woman's flesh was as black as coal and her eyes were big and wide and pretty to look into and while the woman was robed from head to foot in dark garments, Pedro could tell that she was both young and pretty. Pedro smiled when the woman noticed his interest and chuckled softly when she looked away. It was obvious even with her ebony complexion that the woman was blushing with embarrassment. When she looked up to offer Bartholomew a towel, Pedro gave her a teasing wink that caused the woman to blush again. Only the dismissal by Omar spared the woman any further teasing.