Aztec Blood - Jennings Gary (читать хорошую книгу полностью txt) 📗

Luis had made the same mistake that the pirate had: He had underestimated a woman.

"Elena." I held out my hand to her. She grabbed me around the waist and I leaned on her for a few seconds before pulling away. "I must help Mateo."

The picaro was faring no better with Ramon than I had with Luis. Mateo was a better swordsman than I, an extraordinary bladesman for certain, but Ramon was said to be the best sword fighter in all New Spain.

As I limped toward the action, Mateo suddenly moved into the circle of death, lunging at Ramon. Ramon's blade swung around to Mateo's neck, and Mateo's left arm went up and caught the blade against his forearm. At the same time Mateo stuck his dagger in the man's abdomen.

The two stood face-to-face, almost nose to nose, Ramon staring at Mateo in wide-eyed disbelief, unable to accept that he'd been bested, let alone killed. Mateo's thrust had set the man onto his tiptoes.

Mateo twisted the dagger.

"This is for Don Julio."

He twisted the dagger again.

"For Fray Antonio."

He stepped back and faced Ramon, who rocked back and forth on his heels, the dagger still stuck in him. He grinned at Ramon and held up his forearm, pulling back his sleeve to expose the metal guard on the arm. "I regret that I am no gentleman."

Ramon collapsed.

Musket sounds became epidemic, and the mob was pouring out of the palace in retreat from the palace guards.

"Take him out of here," Mateo told Elena. "Get him to the stables and into a carriage. Get him away from here."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I have an idea." He whispered to Elena, not letting me hear.

Before we went out the door I turned back and saw Mateo bending over Luis. He stood up and shouted to guards coming down the hallway.

"Here! Take this man! It's Cristo the Bandito!"

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE

Elena commandeered a coach and frightened coachman, instructing him to take us out of the city. We went to a hacienda owned by Luis. It was the closest place where we could find shelter and help with my wounds.

"Luis rarely visited the hacienda. He had only recently acquired this one and seldom visited any of them."

"The people there, they'll know I'm not Luis."

"The servants and vaqueros would not know you from Luis. If we say you are Luis, they will not question it. The majordomo was recently fired. Luis frequently fired majordomos."

She wrapped a piece of petticoat around my face after staining it with blood from my other wounds. "There. I could tell them you were the viceroy, and they would not know the difference."

She refused to tell me what Mateo had whispered to her.

She doctored my wounds again, just as she had after I was wounded in Veracruz. I lay in bed all day, healing.

To me it was a temporary sojourn from reality. I expected at any time that the viceroy's men would be coming to get me. Mateo had erred in not killing Luis. The idea that he would turn the man over to the guards and they would accept the fact that Luis was Cristo the Bastardo was nonsense. There was a physical resemblance but the moment Luis recovered his senses he would tell them who he was.

I cursed Mateo for his stupidity.

Several days later Elena came to the room. She looked a little distraught.

"He is dead."

"Who?"

"Cristo the Bastardo. My uncle had him almost immediately put to death as a lesson to the rioters."

"You mean Luis? But... how? How could they not believe him when he told them who he really was?"

"I don't know."

She cried, and I held her in my arms.

"I know he was the devil," she said, "but I blame that evil grandmother of his as much as I do him. I never loved him. In truth, he was not really even likable. He had no true friends, which was one reason I tried to be his friend. But he has been with me almost all of my life. And no matter how he talked, I know that his love for me was real."

There was more news. Mateo had been rewarded by the viceroy. He was a hero of the city, having almost single-handedly driven the mob from the palace and capturing Cristo the Bastardo after the bandit killed Ramon de Alva.

I gaped when I heard the story. Dios mio! Why would it surprise me? No doubt Mateo had written the act as part of his original plan for the riot.

That night, when I was tucked in bed, Elena had a servant bring a pot of boiling hot oil. After the servant left, Elena barred the door. She sat down beside me on the bed.

"You asked me what Mateo whispered. He gave me instructions, ones that will hurt you."

I looked over at the hot oil. "You're not intending to cauterize my wounds with that—"

"No, you've told me that is not the proper way. I'm going to drip the oil on your face."

?Santa Maria!

"Have you gone as loco as Mateo? You intend to conceal my identity by wiping away my face."

She leaned down and kissed me with soft, cool lips. Then she caressed my cheeks with her fingers. "Remember when I told you that you reminded me of someone?"

"Yes, first I assumed it was that lepero swine, Cristo the Bastardo, whom you helped to escape. Now I know my resemblance to Don Eduardo inspired you."

"No, Don Cristo-Carlos-Luis, whatever your name is, it was none of those. It took a long time for me to realize that you reminded me of Luis. Neither of you were as handsome as Don Eduardo."

"Thank you."

"But you both shared some of his features."

I looked back at the hot oil. She was going to scar my face with pox marks.

"No, I won't let you do it."

"You must. It is the only way. It will not hurt for long."

"It will be with me the rest of my life. Each time I see those pox marks, I will think of Luis and hate my own face."

"It is the only way."

"It'll fool no one."

"Cri—uh, Luis, think about this. He had no close friends except Ramon, and that mal hombre is in hell. He has no more family except relatives in Spain, none of whom have seen him for years. My uncle was the only one who even knew him reasonably well. Luis was a man who did not seek the company of others, not even women. His grandmother, and myself to a lesser extent, were the only ones with whom he was close."

"You said it yourself, your uncle would recognize him. He's seen both of us together."

"And what is my uncle to report to the king? That he mistook a marques for a beggar-bandit and imprudently hanged him? My uncle will not blink an eye when my husband, Luis, returns to the city after his wounds heal. I will let him know subtly before you walk into his presence, so he will not faint dead when he sees you."

I shook my head. "This is insanity. I cannot just take the place of another man. The last time I tried this it got me into more trouble than it was worth."

"That is what is wonderful about this plan of Mateo's. Who is the Marques de la Cerda?"

"The marques? Why I... I..."

"Say it."

"I am the rightful Marques de la Cerda—by birth."

"Can't you see? My love, you will be impersonating yourself! "

I thought for a moment.

"I am also your lawful wedded husband. It is time I claimed my conjugal rights." I pulled her to me and began removing her clothes.

"Wait," she said. She pushed me away. "As your wife, will I be allowed to read what I like and write what I wish?"

"As long as I get what I want, you may read and write."