Chapter 8

 

Chapter 8

If that man coughed again then he would hit him!

The day had started well. Towards the evening it had taken to its bed. Complaining loudly of a chill in its chest

It should have been a good day. It had been a poor turn of fate that the fact that hunting trip had ended with a skirmish. That said the Master and his men had returned to the town.

Along with the Don Neil they brought to the Governor the dreadful news from the country. They had spent the morning dealing with the highest affairs. Juan himself had ridden to see the Governor, with his Master.

Juan knew in a better world he should have been relating the facts to Gabriella. Standing tall, with his chest out, and his hat cocked

Oh she was beautiful. Her hair was like drying corn. The strands of gold shone out. Her eyes were green. Those eyes promised paradise. They were lush but they held dangers. Like the great humid forests to the north. Juan knew Gabriella had got her letters from someone. Oftentimes Juan wondered if the maid’s wit was greater than his. For simple Gabriella parried his approaches like an expert duellist.

Juan never doubted that the great God in heaven has a plan. Yet he had oft spied that his Earthly Lord had trouble forging his scheme on earth. Someone needed to oil the muskets, and keep the street rats and Indio’s from running riot.

The Captain General relied on his Captains

A Captain should have a woman, to comfort him. For him to share his burden and bed with

Thus Juan would have been relating the importance of his role in the recent events. Juan would impress on fair Gabriella the dangers that he had faced both beast and man, whilst out hunting. The horrors he had seen. All of it! The he would catch her, hand in his, and tell he had worried about her. .. Then leaning in, to bring himself to flank the Maid. As Gabriella inhaled, and her breasts rose...As her teeth flashed

She would tell, him with as face as grave as a Bishop dealing with a heretic. She needed to make the prayer. That she had promised her departed Aunt. A rosary, on her saints day.

Her Aunt must have had many names....

Arggghhhh,

Or she had been wanton

The feast smelled wonderful. Then again, he could not eat. His duty was to keep an eye, on the townsfolk, and an eye, on the House. It was like being one of those slaves that the sultan kept. A Eunuch. A eunuch at the harem.

There was beef. . It would have been a good dowry’s worth of fat calves that had been slaughtered. There was Pork and lamb too. It was good meat. No Rats. No plains beasts. All freshly killed today!

A butcher served the housewives and widows. Then the maids wrapped the meat in thick leaves. The chief Cook, eyes never left Gabriella. As Aphrodite was envied amongst the goddesses Gabriella was envied among women. The men and the boys in the crowd all tried to catch her eye and be served by her. They all smiled and stood straighter when they. Gabriella kept her eyes down. At the table she was as modest as a statue of our Lady

No one was fool enough to say a lewd word. The maids, and the housewives, were safe. Some of the Townspeople had brought jugs, to collect watered wine.

The Great O’Neill hand was always open.

For a moment Juan wondered why there some with no meat. In a land where fat heifers roamed free. They were as common as hares, in the old country

Juan looked up and down the crowd again. So much good meat! Cleary it would be wasted on street rats, and idlers. Half of the crowd were Indio’s. The others were fools just off the ships.

No wonder they were hungry. They should be grateful to the master

One of the servants struck a man who started to relieve himself, in the courtyard. The vulgar fool yelped as he felt the rod across his back

Juan pointed his musket, at the man. Two of Don Hugh’s sworn men dragged him away.

The fool could do that elsewhere. He could foul someone else’s nest. The man would leave with a full bladder and an empty stomach.

The crowd quieted down. You could never take your eyes of the Mob. Someone was here feeding them. Feeding them good beef, if you pleased and people still took liberties.

The Steward of the House spoke.

``Remember my friends.

Your friend....

``The Young O’Neill, remembers you. He is happy to have you share from his table. No matter what dispute he may have with the governor. He will not let his good Christian neighbours go hungry, or undefended. ‘’

There was some polite applause. A few men took off their hats. One mother told her daughter, that the O’Neill’s, were always kind and generous. A widow, behind Mama agreed.

At least it was not going to rain.

The crowd, scurried away as darkness began to prowl. The Gates of the House were locked. The dogs were untied. The Watchmen took their places ready with their muskets and pikes. The Steward, and the chief cook oversaw, the cleaning of the courtyard. The floor swept. The tables were washed down. Then steward and the Cooks ushered the maids indoors. The mother hen watched and counted every head. She would lead them to their bed chambers, and watch them retire behind their bolted doors.

There were still some comforts of a great house. Juan mused, as he took a piece of tobacco from his pouch. Oh, it was sweet stuff. A ship from the Indies or smuggled from the lands the Ingles held in the North. A pity he had not taken it, off the sailors’ corpses. Juan cursed. The thought of the Woman’s house, would follow him for a long time. Like a scar, from a burn. Perhaps it would go away, next winter. Perhaps it would not. It would follow him, into bed with Gabriella

One the house servants, summoned him. The young Lord, asked his counsel

Don Hugh, was sitting just inside, his house. The young Lord fed his dog, some scraps from the table.

Their master’s face foretold a storm. The Dog was being indulged, coddled and caressed, as his master needed something to do. There was a blizzard in the young Lords heart.

``Juan I wanted to ask you something. Do you think that?’’

Juan would never learn, what his master inquired after

Noise

Was it the call of the trumpet? Was the Day of judgement upon them?

The ringing in his ears started. There was another flash.

The young master went to rise. The dog started to bark. The Dog was sure of the doom.

Juan pushed his master to the ground. Until, he knew what was going on. The Don could stay on the floor. The Dog tried to bite him. Juan kicked out at it. They were almost out of range, of cannon

Almost kept the gravediggers in bread.

A Fire!

There was fire from the docks. There were screams now, and shouts. Buenos Aires was a world of wood, wine and straw.

The heretics! They had returned, and they were firing the port.

That was why they never found the fishermen. The Sailors Dutch or Ingles had killed them and stolen their boats. They had towed the boats behind their ship or stashed them close to the port in some quiet cove. Then they filled the boats with pitch, powder, and rags. Set them alight with a fuse.

Fire!

The screaming accompanied the flames. Like the choir at Mass

The chill had become a fever

Fever spread so quickly

If only it would rain.

The season was wrong.

The horses!

Juan, told actually he demanded his master get indoors. The young Lord could check on his Daughter and the servants. It would give the Young lord, an honourable duty. It would also keep him away from the Horses. The Horses should be safe. The Master having played host to so many tonight. The groom’s would have put the horses, to their stalls. They were tied up, and braying and kicking. The smoke and the noise were scaring them. Like Indio’s with cannon. The Horses knew it was trouble. There was no beast so brute it did not fear smoke. The Horses panicked and panicked.

The grooms and the stable master had earned their bread and wine. The horses had been covered with thick blankets. They were made lie down in there stalls. The Horses were stroked and brushed. As safe and secure as a newborn at his mother’s breast.

Juan closed the stable door behind him. The groom’s would bolt it from inside.

The maid’s and horses were safe. No one would ride away with them...

His master waited for him in the courtyard. The sworn men were there. They had pikes, and axes. No firearms. There was no need for more sparks.

Juan flinched. Without powder, he felt naked. A sword was all very well. If he had been born a gentleman, he could have practised with a sword all day. There would have been some Milanese or Roman fop, to teach him the virtues of the code duello. A pistol finished matters

Juan remembered something. There was an old crossbow somewhere. One of the Portuguese had used in the street fights years ago. In those happier days when Buenos Aires only excited the passions of its natives. The old steward of the house a Vasco with very fair hair He had been a very thorough man. Juan had never even gotten a kiss, from a maid when the Vasco had run the house. Anyway the auld Vasco had snatched up the crossbow years ago. Then he had a blacksmith put some bolts together for it too. It was in the cellar, behind, the wines.

The fires had one mercy. Juan did not need a candle to descend the stairs. It was bright enough to see. They crossbow, and bolts were where they always where. On a notch over the Beer barrels and wines. Some kind saint had watched over the crossbows string. It would have made a good meal for a mouse and his sons.

The crossbow, would win arguments where a honest pike, or a rapier might stutter

The chief spoke. They would make their way to the docks. If they could help anyone they would. It would be better. To help others help themselves. They would rouse their clients, and friends.

The Steward, and the cook, had risen from the beds. The whole House would be mustered.

The Don called the steward, and the cook, to his side. Juan walked over, the crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Should we wake the maids? If water must be fetched and carried it would be as natural to them, as breathing. The maids would need to be protected. Men must stand by them with pike, and sword.

There were vagabonds who would use the flames, as license to commit rape and rapine. The virtue of the maids of a good house would be a prize sort by blackguards. Their tears and honour would mean nothing. A life’s reputation lost, for a few minutes fleeting lust and bragging in a low tavern.

The Chief counted his men.

No doubt, the decent citizens, of the Buenos Aires were mustering in an ideal world, there would be enough men, to guard the maids, and fight the fires. In an ideal world there would be no heretics

That said there was no way of knowing who would answer the call. Who would hide in their beds, and who would run for the plain. The fire was not a duel. Brave men, veterans of battles would panic, at the cackling teasing flames

No, the fires had to be fought. God would have to look after the maids.

The young lord spoke to the Cook. The Mare that led the herd’s philys

To the river, with as many buckets you can carry. The steward, will go with you. Those of you who have fathers and Brothers nearby r fetch them first. My steward will give honest men arms. The steward, will rouse the names of our clients and friends.

The O'Neill gave the steward a pistol. Take the maids, to the river. Rouse any honest men, you can. Look to our friends if someone troubles you shoot them

`` If a hand is raised against you know that the House of O’Neill will take terrible revenge on them.

Them and their families.

May God and Holy Mother protect you all!’’

A boy had been sent to the chapel. The parish priest had been woken.

The steward bowed, and brought the priest to the young lord. The O Neill kissed the priests hand, as if it was the Pope himself.

``Father, I am sorry you are forced to leave, your bed chamber. I need your help. I need the names of honest men, who will help fight the fires. I know tonight may be busy for you. People will need the comfort of their priest. If you can help me you and the sexton can save lives’’

The priest gave several names. Some of the boys who sleep by the church, made a few silver coins, running to wake the sacristans, and choir master. One of the men was a carpenter he had a strange accent. An odder look about him. Irlandessa even of the boat would be dark. This man was fair, with an odd nose. From one of the emperors further realms

The time for talk was over. The swordsmen would make their way to the docks. The womenfolk, a touch further upstream. The sun and the moon bowed and left the dance floor.

The walk to the docks would take a few songs

A thought crossed Juan’s mind suddenly like a bird darting between houses. His life here in the great lands of the South. Indeed his service amongst the Irlandessa. It had all begun, by walking from the docks to the house. Did clocks work backwards as well as forwards?

Well, they walked. Juan shouted. For all honest men, to join them! Some men met with them at the crossroads. They had brought crowbars, and a leather bucket. It was the local blacksmith, and his sons. They were good people. The master shook the blacksmiths hand. The Chief was not a small man, but the blacksmith hands made the Hugh’s look dainty.

Like the Israelites they kept on walking. They shamed a couple of street rats into joining them.

A crusade against the flames! They could have some honest work for once. The rats held their nerve as they watched people running away from the flames. The women and children were directed to the Church. The Men they urged them into joining them. Sword and shame, and silver bolstering duty A rider less horse bolted past it could have killed someone. Towards the docks, they kept on walking.

Juan shouted and shouted. ``For all honest men to come to their aid.’’ There were more honest men then unicorns in the parish of the Church of our Lady the star of the sea, but not many!

That said one fellow came out to join them.

A young lad Juan guessed a cabin boy who had jumped ship. Yet now the scion of Heroes slapped him on the back, and wished him well.

They could taste the smoke now.

The taste meant they were close to the waters now. The smoke got thicker it was as punch now, rather than wine. Now they finally had a view of the river. The brambles of Houses chapel’s taverns and shacks had made way.

It was quiet.

The docks were always full of noise. There was the shouting of stevedores. Calls of hawkers begging and bawling to get people to spend the coin in their pockets. There would have been the animals too. The smell of oxen and mules and the noise of Horses clattering about the streets. A dock meant the shouts of whores shouting to the sailors. Hubbub from the cheapest taverns where men would cut your throat for a shiny round piece of tin.

If it was not for the flames then Juan would not have ventured here without a pistol, he would have had several pistols. His hands checked the crossbow again

They could see the great river.

The fire ships had caught two vessels alight. One had been moored by a wharf, further upstream. The ship’s powder had surely exploded. The flames had spread to the eastern part of the town.

The sun rose over the homes of the Portuguese.

The blacksmith began the prayer to our Lady. As they crusaders walked towards the direction of the rising sun. The flames were a dim and dangerous reflection of the heavens.

There was never a war, without plague.

They did not come here

Maybe once or twice to attend a funeral.

Or for a quiet meeting on the steps of a Chapel. With safe passage and the word of the clergy, and the right sanctuary as their guarantee

Then they made haste back to their homes

The only more dangerous place would have been Londres. Amongst the Ingles

``Water! Water!’’ He demanded. ``Water! Water!’’ A cloak covering his nightshirt, and having lost his hat. The Governor of Buenos Aires seemed a pathetic figure. A tragic actor in Madrid charged with the role would have moved the crowd to tears.

``Water! Water!’’

The Governor shouted at the stream of maids and wives, who had made a chain of buckets. Husbands and sons fought the flames with hooks and other were beating the flames with damp blankets and stirring the earth up before them.

The night had already seen justice mooted out to one looter. The villain had been caught with a silver cup. Then babbled and lied in some strange tongue. As they put the rope around his neck

A wretched lord, perhaps but still a lord

``Water! Water at haste!’’ The Governor shouted

The heretics had struck a swift sharp blow, like a cutthroat at the docks

The fire had caught two ships and then spread to the wharves. Wharves full of leather and grain there was even wines now, and that awful drink the Irlandessa drunk. The fire was preying on them like a fox in a chicken coup.

It would hurt There city maybe the bastard child of the empire but it was growing tall and strong.

There was a clamour. The men had their hands on their hilts. A woman dropped a Bucket.

``Water! Water! ‘’The Governor like a fiddler in a cheap tavern knew only one tune.

The Irlandessa had shown up....