The virtue of Piety had found a good home in the heart of the Governor He was loyal to the Church of his father and his father, and to the Holy Father in far away Rome He asked his wife, if this was not the case. She with her little hand on her heart looked him in the eye, and told him he was.
Tempering his piety was Loyalty, for he had served the King with all his heart, wit and strength. He had served a King he would never meet, or even share the same continent as for all his life. From the exactitude of tax returns, and harbour dues to the terrible haste of keeping the peace between, the Portuguese and the Irlandessa the Governor as a servant of Catholic Majesty would die to uphold his Sovereign laws in Buenos Aires and enforce against the Indio’s against the heretic,
He remembered a grey day. It had been after he was sworn in, as the Kings first servant in the town. There had been a feast, and some dancing.
If one day, he was to ride out, to the plains, or take his place at a barricade by the docks, and never return. His son would do the same if it was called upon. As his son would, and his son. Until the dawning of the day of the last judgement. Dutiful as servant and husband as had told her early in their marriage and she had wept and bawled as women were wont. His mother scolded him for saying such. The serving girl and the neighbours had made a great fuss, of his wife too that day. Scolding him, and talking low just in earshot. His fair Cecile tears having carried from the plaza to the docks, and some way out to sea he would wager. Yet he had persisted, despite her tears, despite her curses, her feints and her wiles in time his wife accepted it as part of her duties. Bearing it with not a little grace and courage
He loathed heresy. As all true men, did. He feared it he feared the horrors it wrought in this world. Yet it was nothing to the eternity of agony that would be the finish of Heresy. Better never to have been born, than to suffer the justice of the almighty. Yet while the fate of heresy was certain, it still existed and he would give up his life to prevent it, and punish it.
For a heartbeat the Governor felt kinship with the Men across from him. There were many times when he would have hanged them all. Buenos Aires often reminded him of a chessboard The Portuguese were the whites. Carved from pine and brushed with varnish The Irlandessa were of course, as black hearted as any of the opposing pawn. Yet today all pieces were united. The petty game put aside.
They did not need the Inquisition, The Irlandessa once again reminded him, that they had killed the heretic king. In case the event had slipped his mind, in the long period between drawing breaths
The Portuguese spoke of their ancient rights. They did not play the one tune, as the Irlandessa did, but knew their chorus well enough. One of their Kings, before the union of crowns had dispensed with the services of the holy office. The sons of Lisbon had claimed the right throughout the Empire. Depending on their circumstance luck and persistence sometimes they had kept it
This had been the way in Buenos Aires on the silver coast. Perhaps it had been an accident. The Church had overlooked them, as a small chapel in the plains which may go a season without seeing a Priest Perhaps it had been the trade and taxes the fruits of the ports harvest
A harvest sweetened with the hides and swordsmen that were the bounty of the plains. Was it that these things were sent north? Thus the Bishops and lawyers at the Escadorial willing to oblige their southern subjects
There was the danger of heresy among their homes and heath The Spanish Netherlands, had been lost to the faith. Not only the Netherlands. Once all Europe from the frozen north, to the Islands where crafty Odysseus had ploughed his furrow had been true to the Mother Church Now her children had turned against her. The house was divided whilst the strangers plotted The Sultan’s legions pressed and forayed from the south. Hungary had been lost. The gates of Vienna were spared the ram, only by the King of Poland
Now they had a case of heresy. A public display of contempt for the Host. Oh such things happened now and then. Last summer they had flogged a vile youth who with the devil in his heart had started to shout and curse during the homily at our Lady of Victories. There were the thieves who would try to make off with plate and the blackguards who loathed the laws of man and God.
Then there were the bands of renegade Indio’s. They always struck at chapels. They hanged for it. Screaming out the names, of the demons they had made sacrifice and paid honour before the coming of the Christians but now it was coloured by their brute view of the Church
He had heard that the same was true of slaves, in the great plantations of the Sugar islands
This was more this was an act of propaganda. It was a strike in the very breast of Buenos Aires. Indeed like a thorn or a splinter it would become putrid, and the smell and foulness would kill the body. The body politic of Buenos Aires would not only die but it would be dammed. Better to be cast into the lake
Who could look into the heart of every man? A man could say he was from this town or that village, or that he had been persecuted for his faith by the heretics, and when he was alone in his room, could be reading the bible in French, or singing Psalms in Navarese. Some would in their cups deny the Holy Trinity. Others would curse the Holy Father in Rome, call him a whoremonger and an Antichrist
The Indio’s were better. They at least had the excuse of ignorance. A rabid dog, was just a dog after all, its malady was to be pitied, even though it was to be destroyed
The whip would remind them of their place and their duty. The whip was a kinder master than hunger, or the horses and dogs of the Irlandessa. Those huge dogs half wolf that followed the horses of the Irlandessa they could easily tear apart a man. Once the Governor, heard the Irlandessa boast that they threw the body of the heretic King they slew, to their dogs. The Irlandessa had not repeated the boast, but said it, quietly in their cups, one day during a Christmas feast. So there was perhaps a ring of truth in the boast
An Indio, would get the consolation of the church, and fed. His barracks would have a fire. It was better than living as a fox on the plains, or begging at the port. Before the constable caught him, and made an example
One thing was as sure as winter following the harvest, there was heresy amongst them.
The Men of Buenos Aires had been in council for a long time. A boy had come into the chamber to start a fire. In the street the lanterns were being lit. The governor was about to ask if he should have bread and meat brought in, or would his compatriots prefer to recess until tomorrow Yet the day had gone well. No threats no curses, just talk. There was word of petitioning the King and the Viceroy. There would be a fast. The Great houses of the town and all honest men would make efforts to stamp out heresy. They would send honest men, to stand watch over the churches. They would listen for hints of heresy in their households. The Governor and all of the leading men of Buenos Aires would invite the fraternity of Jesu to establish a house here. They were ferocious in the struggle against heresy. They had been the shield that saved Poland
They also agreed to draw the funds, from the public purse for a carpenter who would get a commission to build a pair stout gallows. A gallows for the plaza of St James the very centre of Buenos Aires, and one at the docks.
Heresy would be seen to be opposed in the heart and face of Buenos Aires
The fire was lit, the flames, drew the governors eyes. Those would be the ultimate and eternal reward after the hangman, had been paid.
It was the Old O’Neill, who coughed politely. His people called him, Mor. They said it meant great but a few scholars insisted it really meant big. The younger son had a strange title. Oh si the Taniste. The O’Neill Mor was the Dragon, whose teeth had been reaped, and they had caused season, after season of grief. All of this from a grey man with hands as large as a blacksmith or indeed the senior magistrate of Buenos Aires. Such mischief inspired from such a melancholy man somewhere, outside Bilbao there was a village missing a widower. Had he seen him, leaving Mass on a Sunday, than the Governor would have nodded and made his way home without a second thought.
The Old Irlandessa begged leave of them all, as he was an old man, and needed to make his way home before darkness and cold, took their toll on him.
The Portuguese rose as one, and bade him a polite and for well meant farewell. The Irlandessa bowed, to their for once colleagues. Made their leave, and departed
The Governor was sated if not satisfied it was not a happy task, that they had gathered to share but they would prove themselves equal to the demands of God and the King
He told the boy, to fetch, the head servant. They would begin the Rosary.
The day’s work would belong to God. As the Grave diggers or the coffin makers did.
The cockerel stood sentinel and victor over the lighting of the fires. Telling all of his triumph as the town of Buenos Aires roused itself. The day’s work would begin.
Sister had risen, with her sisters, to join the second service of the day. She had woken for Matins and prime then she had broken her fast with her sisters. After the farewells and being given leave to venture outside the convent Eloise and her companion inside the gates, for there guides.
She smiled at the Irony and whispered it to sister Innes. They would guide the young lady’s soul from the dangers of ignorance and heresy. Whilst the kinsmen and clients of the lady would protect their bodies from insult and injury the Sun and the moon worked in harmony
Oh the faces were friendly and welcome. It was the pious husband and wife, who had provided her escort, to Buenos Aires. They were being escorted by a pair of rider, were waiting to take her to the caravan. A nephew, apprenticed to the Uncle. The Irlandessa had a word for it, which Eloise spent a few seconds torment trying to remember and his servant. A few years older than his young master! Walking quietly behind someone who walked quietly behind
The nephew was slightly less talkative than the mare he rode, but seemed twice as strong. He doffed his cap, and bowed. His eyes did not trace the Sisters form. If he had the laconic manner but their virtue of readiness. On his introduction, he let his hand move away from his hilt, noticeably but returned her swiftly. The nephew who barely spoke was the talkative one of the pair. His servant, would made a fine statue, had that been a trade.
They had brought her and her sister a pair of honest mules. A lad earned an honest wage in there service. it would be him, who drove the mule which the Brides of Christ rode A stout stick would determine the mules place in the great chain of being, after his service the lad would dine on beef today. Eloise gave thanks the Youth could not conceal the fact that he missed more than one meal of late
Eloise took a moment to point out the convents kitchen she was a slave to charity. The sisters were well known to the poor. Yet a good teacher always repeated the lesson when she could
They set off, the boy walking a little in front of the procession. It was not the swiftest route to the house of the young O Neill, but it was the safest and most decorous and therefore the conveyance that they would take.
The caravan set off. They reached the house of the young O Neill, with neither insult nor injury suffered. The Nephew, bid them wait, for a moment, while his servant announced them
The steward of the house, came and made them welcome, offering water and wine. The boy was directed to the Kitchen the rest of the party were brought in off the courtyard to a room. There was a man, coming back from the stables, talking with a very pretty housemaid. She curtseyed and hurried away to her duty. Her suitor, by his colouring was Galician. Hawk like he surveyed the men in their party. Finding them agreeable he turned and went towards the servant’s quarters, his apparel dusty his musket, spotless. A guard dog,
The O’Neill’s aunt would receive them. It should have been, Karoline, alas now she was in a greater house. The steward at the gate of that house, was of much more renown too
The younger O Neill entered the room. He bowed to his guests and introduced himself
Alas again Eloise would have to remember the momentary failing of her sex, to her confessor. Their thanked them, for coming, begged forgiveness for the rudeness of his house, and his manners.
The Aunt, than asked that the womenfolk, to retire with her, to another room. The Men were to discuss some of the pressing matters of the days. The Indio’s had been restless. Like youths they were trying to intimidate a few ranchers and villages a mornings ride away from the town.
The Younger O Neill had been riding out amongst them. Showing the savages the teeth of his dogs and the power of the muskets of his sworn men. Cold steel and Christian discipline brought the savage to bear
Eloise nodded and rose. She was offered refreshment but declined. The Aunt, and the Matron, spoke of their families, inquiring after sons, and nephews, daughters and nieces, and their issue.
Eloise offered polite acknowledgement a nod or when that was too much a slight tilt of the head, and a quiet prayer for those resting in purgatory whilst she waited to be addressed, in conversation.
The young lady she has tutored was mentioned, and the aunt inclined towards her. The child needed to continue with her, studies. Eloise, would be soon to join her former charge and her guide her through her letters
Then a revelation, the Aunt, would be sharing their journey, to the house of the O Neill. She would be guardian, of her niece, the daughter of the younger O Neill. The one the Irlandessa called the Tánaiste Eloise would assist in the upbringing of the child at a remove from Buenos Aires and its dangers moral and physical.
Eloise and Ines would recite the matins as the sun rose over the plains
