And none of them has been, by any stretch of the imagination, a common woman."
Lady Beatrice laughed lightly. "You managed to compliment your old lover and one who would be your new one, both at once. No wonder you were able to win your way past the priests and scholars. I daresay Queen Isabella fell in love with your red hair and the fire in your eyes, just as I did."
"More grey in the hair than red, I fear."
"Hardly any," she answered.
"My lady," he said, "it was your friendship I prayed for when I came to Gomera. I did not dare to dream of more."
"Are you beginning a long and gracefully convoluted speech that will, in the end, decline my carnal invitation?"
"Ah, Lady Beatrice, not decline, but perhaps postpone?"
She reached out, leaned forward, touched his cheek. "You're not a very handsome man, you know, Cristobal."
"That has always been my opinion as well," he answered.
"And yet one can't take one's eyes from you. Nor can one purge one's thoughts of you when you're gone. I'm a widow, and you're a widower. God saw fit to remove our spouses from the torments of this world. Must we also be tormented by unfulfilled desires?"
"My lady, the scandal. If I stayed the night--"
"Oh, is that all? Then leave before midnight. I'll let you over the parapet by a silken rope."
"God has answered my prayers," he said to her.
"As well he should, since you were on his mission."
"I dare not sin and lose his favor now."
"I knew I should have seduced you back in Santa Fe."
"And there's this, my lady. When I return, successful, from this great enterprise, then I'll not be a commoner, whose only touch of gentility is by his marriage into a not-quite-noble family of Madeira. I'll be Viceroy. I'll be Admiral of the Ocean Sea." He grinned. "You see, I took your advice and got it all in writing in advance."
"Well, Viceroy indeed! I doubt you'll waste a glance on a mere governor of a far-off island."
"Ah, no, Lady. I'll be Admiral of the Ocean Sea, and as I contemplate my realm--"
"Like Poseidon, ruler over all the shores that are touched by the waves of the sea--"
"I will find no more treasured crown than this island of Gomera, and no more lovely jewel in that crown than the fair Beatrice."
"You've been at court too long. You make your compliments sound rehearsed."
"Of course I've rehearsed it, over and over, the whole week I waited here in torment for your return."
"For the Pinta's return, you mean."
"Both were late. Your rudder, however, was undamaged."
Her face reddened, and then she laughed.
"You complained that my compliments were too courtly. I thought you might appreciate a tavern compliment."
"Is that what that was? Do strumpets sleep with men for free if they say such pretty things?"
"Not strumpets, Lady. Such poetry is not for those who can be had for mere money."
"Poetry?"
"Thou art my caravel, with sails full-winded --"
"Watch your nautical references, my friend."
"Sails full-winded, and the bright red banners of thy lips dancing as thou speakest."
"You're very good at this. Or are you not making it up as you go along?"
"Making it all up. Ah, thy breath is the blessed wind that sailors pray for, and the sight of thy rudder leaves this poor sailor full-masted --"
She slapped his face, but it wasn't meant to hurt.
"I take it my poetry is a failure."
"Kiss me, Cristobal. I believe in your mission, but if you never return I want at least your kiss to remember you by."
So he kissed her, and again. But then he took his leave of her, and returned to the last preparations for his voyage. It was God's work now; when it was done, then it was time to collect the worldly rewards. Though who was to say that she was not, after all, a reward from heaven? It was God, after all, who had made a widow of her, and perhaps God also who made her, against all probability, love this son of a Genovese weaver.
He saw her, or thought he saw her -- and who else could it have been? -- waving a scarlet handkerchief as if it were a banner from the parapet of the castle as his caravels at last set forth. He raised his hand in a salute to her, and then turned his face westward. He would not look again to the east, to Europe, to home, not until he had achieved what God had sent him to do. The