Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Nine o’clock and I felt more than ready for my confession.
Sunaria and I had stopped off at Vigo’s old parish church, a slight detour on our way back to Palos.
I’d be seeing Jacob soon. That was all I could think about – my son.
Sunaria insisted on waiting in our carriage. I’d noticed a subtle change in her demeanor, her affection being more evident now, a refreshing change to her usual austere presence.
It felt good to take back my authority.
I carried with me the small wooden box I’d found in Felipe’s secret chamber.
Inside the church, there was a rich aroma of incense and a severe chill. Churches are cold, a detail I’d forgotten. Their stone walls omit warmth, designed this way perhaps to keep the congregation awake during boring sermons.
Putting myth to the test, I took a moment to linger before the large wooden cross hanging behind the ornately decorated altar, waiting for hell to be unleashed.
But nothing bad happened. I gave a shrug, bored but pleased that there was still no aversion to religious artifacts – not for me anyway. Maybe that also meant I could find a way to face the daylight.
Yellow light flickered over the white-washed walls and peeling paint. Felipe had stolen the money for the church’s restoration.
Taking long strides, I made my way to the back of the church and slid the box into the confessional booth entrance and then entered the confessor’s side. The red, drawn curtain hinted at authority and doubled its sense of mystery.
I wanted to see Bishop Bonaire’s expression, the man on the other side of the curtain.
“These items belong to the Church,” I said. “And I trust that you’ll return the documents to their rightful owners.”
“Where did you find this?” Bonaire lifted out the communion chalice.
“At the senator’s residence.”
He shuffled through the papers. “It belongs to Senator Grenaldi.”
“It did.”
The bishop fidgeted. “Did he ask you to return them?”
“Not exactly.”
Bonaire pulled the curtain back. His heavily lined face revealed a lifetime of worry, though I detected a strong faith in this dedicated man of God, and a comforting presence.
“Is there something you wish to confess?” he asked.
“I don’t actually have that much time.”
He frowned.
“I have something else for you.” I held up a crisp scroll.
He opened the rusty grate.
“This belonged to Columbus.” I passed it through.
He unraveled the map. “Where did you find this?”
“In the box I just handed to you,” I lied. “It’s evidence of a plot against the king.”
“Senator Grenaldi?”
“He’s at its center.”
“But he’s the king’s closest ally,” he said, his voice tense.
“Felipe wanted us to believe that lie. It’s time to restore power to the Church.”
“How does this map prove the senator’s heresy?”
I handed Bonaire the letter that Felipe had written in The Captain’s Table Inn.
“He wrote this?” Bonaire asked.
“It’s Felipe’s handwriting and his signature.”
“Has he gone mad?” Bonaire’s jowl shook with surprise.
“Felipe is after the precious metals that Columbus is currently searching for.”
“But why write a letter to the king?”
“As a warning? Perhaps we will never know.”
“He threatens Columbus?”
“When Columbus finds land, Grenaldi plans to claim it.”
“He is mad. When this gets into the king’s hands—”
“You will be free to take care of your parish.”
He rolled up the letter and peeked again at the contents of the box.
“One more thing,” I said. “Behind the bookcase in Grenaldi’s office is a secret chamber, in case the authorities need more evidence.”
To appear as a convincing religious zealot, I lingered for a moment to kneel before the altar. I genuflected and then headed out, passing the font full to the brim with holy water.
Something in the receptacle caught my eye.
I approached and, careful to avoid contact with what could likely burn me, I leaned in to get a glimpse.
After I caught my breath, I took another look. My reflection stared back. Although I recognized a little of the old Daumia, there were real changes in my appearance, my hazel eyes were luminous, and my chiseled bone structure was more defined and striking – and my hair was sticking up.
Still faking my humanity, I left the church and approached the carriage slowly, not wanting to alert anyone who saw me. I gave a nod to our horseman that we were ready for our journey to Palos and climbed in, sitting opposite Sunaria.
With a crack of the whip and a jolt, the horses trotted off, pulling our carriage along. We rocked as the wheels rolled over the worn cobblestones of the churchyard.“Interesting church.” I flattened my hair with my palm.
Sunaria gazed out the window. “Will you ever forgive me for bringing you over?”
I rested my feet on the seat beside her. “It’s not like you to ask for forgiveness.”“You have more time with your son.”
“And even more time with you.”
Moonlight shimmered off her dark locks and her perfect, porcelain complexion. Her blue-green irises glistened more intensely when her mood was dark, like it was now.
I took her hand and kissed it. “Let me in.”
She sighed.
“Promise you’ll never leave me,” I whispered.
“Do I detect a hint of weakness from my dark lord?”
“Is that what you’re calling me now?”
“A new life deserves a new name.”
A thrill coursed down my spine as she allowed me access to her thoughts, even though it was fleeting. “Lord of the underworld?” I repeated her silent words.
“It suits you,” she said. “My beloved.” My Orpheus.