By: Sailor Jenova

The laughter of the lesser lynx is often insincere,
It pays to be polite he thinks. when royalty is near.
So when the lion steals his food or kicks him from behind
He laughs but—Oh! the rude remarks that cross his mind
The Lesser Lynx, -----E.V.Rieu

1.

I didn’t normally haunt such unsavory places in Barcelona. Especially when I was to be leaving España and all her luxuries in less than two days on yet another jaunt across the infinite Océano de Atlántico. Yet three days ago a messenger grasped the brass ring upon my door and brought me a letter that changed that .. and everything else. Instantly my whole life was in turmoil, had to be revamped, gutted, and re-organized. Every agenda I had was set back a year, all plans and projects strewn aside to collect dust. Before I knew it, I was looking up an old acquaintance of mine, and here he and I sat in a tavern that, in my opinion, left everything to be desired. We weren’t here for the wine, which was horrifically weak, nor were we here to mingle with the menagerie of urban slosh and riff raffs that weren’t so weak. We were here because this tavern’s regulars were known for being especially loud and obnoxious, and no one would hear our conversation. This old acquaintance of mine, Captain Antonio Pérez of Cádiz, and I were here to discuss a mission that could cost us our lives. The last days were crammed with planning and preparing the Esperanza for the voyage. Neither Pérez nor I slept hardly at all. The worry of just how we were going to go about doing what that letter ordered haunted us every waking hour.

Tonight, however, Pérez was in rapture. He claimed he had found the foundation of our success and the key to completing this venture, both with our reward, and our heads. He had found a man that could get us what we needed. This man, claimed he, was an accomplished navigator by day-which we needed anyway- and the craftiest of rogues by night. Pérez had faith this was the answer we had been looking for.

I was unconvinced.

“And you will meet this man later on today to discuss any further details?”

“Oh, yes Señor …right here in this very tavern…he’s due to show on the next hour.”

“ And you say that this man, if I understand correctly, is also going to navigate the ship through the Straights of Hell?”

“That is correct.”

“ My dear Pérez, I am impressed with your practicality, the less men in on this venture the better. However, I am still fretting that you feel the need for an intermediario[ii].”

I casually gazed toward the left side of the tavern pretending to investigate a sudden drunken outburst in the direction of the bar. The culprit was wizened old wino whose eyes and face were redder than a harlots stocking. I wasn’t interested in the cadaverous letch, I was actually scanning the tavern and watching that door out of the corner of my eyes to make sure there was no familiar faces in this bar. Also I anticipated meeting this navigator...from what I had gathered on him I am almost certain he’d be one to show up unexpectedly early…just to see what he might walk in on. My compliment seemed to do a wonder for Pérez’s pride and posture. He sat back in his chair beaming like the job was already finished.

“However …” I continued, moving only my eye toward Pérez who immediately tensed at my gaze. I returned my attention to the drunk old man who was now banging his empty glass on the bar. He was trying to get the attention of the keep—whose face grew redder by the moment. If that old drunk didn’t watch it he’d be the happy owner of a ojo morado [iii]to match those rotten teeth of his.

“ I find it hard to believe you came across such an impressive jack-of –all-trades on such short notice . . .”

Pérez lifted both palms in defense. His mouth opened in reply to my accusations. But I silenced him with a subtle raise of my hand before he could utter a word.

“Captain Pérez, do you consider me a gullible man?”

“Absolutely not, Excellency . . .”

“ I don’t mean to be overly firm with you, Captain Pérez …We’ve known each other since we were children, and I wouldn’t have trusted just any man with such a huge responsibility . . .” I still had my hand up and I could see Pérez literally sweat with the strain of holding his response. He’d just have to wait. “ . . . but you understand how much is at stake—reputations, occupations, property—” I counted these words off upon my fingers. When I reached my index finger I turned into a knife that I crossed my neck in the appropriate manner as I completed the list . . . our heads..?”

Pérez’s hands involuntary went to his throat. With this telltale sign of his obvious intimidation I proceeded with my discourse.

“This isn’t just a petty theft we can buy our selves out of. This is royal theft. You know Captain, I’ve been in that palace countless times, and I’ve seen how they handle things. Do you know what they do to people who commit crimes against the crown?”

“I can imagine, Excellency.”

“Good, then you know why I have to be critical of you, why I demand absolute caution at all costs.” I glared at him and shot a quick grin. “Unless, you want me to tell you a story or two to motivate you?”

“No!” he pleaded. “That will not be necessary, Señor. I implore you that I am aware the stakes are extremely high and the risks are great.”

I nodded matter-of-factly, and casually took another drink of wine.

“Then you also know why I must question the authenticity of the abilities of every man that knows of our plans? “

“Yes, Señor Gómez”

“With the Inquisition on the prowl we must have complete security. And let us not forget all those lackey guards looking for every opportunity to gain promotion. Nor can we ignore the petty nobles of the court who are always trying to catch the eye of the King. Believe me my dear Captain, being a petty noble myself, I know how these people work! Can you even fathom what a tumult this would be if we were ever caught. You understand why I might see such an impressive hire such as ...as, this …ah, ” I rolled my hand in the air before I looked up waiting for Pérez to fill in the blank.

“Mendoza, Excellency” Pérez corrected.

“Ah, yes, Gracias. Mendoza.” I continued, “ Why an impressive hire such as Mendoza would seen a little, unrealistic? ...A little suspiciously too good to be true?”

“ I am fully aware of your concern, Excellency. I as well fear for my trade, and of course my neck, but if I may ask His Right Honorable[iv] for permission to argue my point.”

“Proceed.”

“It may seem odd fortune to find a man so skilled and one that would actually go through with such a thing, right here in Barcelona. Not to mention at such a busy time for the city which gives us every opportunity to slip away in the midst of the din unnoticed. Our luck is indeed great to find one who also happens to be one of the few men in España, in Europa, for that matter. How fortunate we are to locate a man that has been through the Straits of Hell, let alone a master at maneuvering through them. Anyone would want to employ a man like that, bringing the threat of suspicion down even more. What are the odds, in that, eh? …But, I beg of you, Excellency, to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Fortuna has smiled upon us and luck is on our side!”

I laughed at that mockingly. Pérez had a shocked look on his face in response to my laughter. He had good reason, as I don’t laugh that often.

“Captain Pérez! You have known me well too long to know I do not believe in luck! There is no such thing. Rewards are gained only through the will to survive, resourcefulness, and, if all else fails one must resort to the advice of Machiavelli[v], becoming underhanded and manipulative! My occupation has taken me to some dark places. Very dark places, Señor.”

Pérez nodded with concern, as I continued . . .

“Surely my dearest and oldest acquaintance you know enough about my past in our native Andalusia to understand my reasoning on this!”

“Of course, Señor Gómez, I understand your point of view. Our acquaintance runs far back, which is also why I ask of that you place your trust in me and not to fret yourself with this phase of the plan. Leave everything to me.”

“Very well then. I am placing all responsibility on your shoulders. As I remember right, we were almost kin, weren’t we?”

Perez glanced downward and made a quick grave genuflection. I managed a faint but forced smile when he looked back up. The short silence between us seemed louder than the screeches of the drunk old man who was now, at the command of the bar-keep, being escorted by two burly sailors out of the tavern, while wailing at the top of his toothless old pallet.

Our meeting was over, and our reputations and lives were now in the hands of this unknown navigator. So be it. True, I could’ve refused Pizzaro’s summons, and simply taken this matter to the Courts. I could’ve told them of his plans of stealing from the royal family for his own personal gain and not giving the King his entitled share. There were already a couple of the King’s own councilors who disfavored Pizzaro, and turning him in might’ve been more rewarding then the third he promised me. It could’ve been that easy. But I didn’t get where I am today because I was merely a ‘good’ soldier. Anyone higher then an ensign[vi] can tell you that. You’ve got to take risks. As for opportunity, you’ve got to know how to spot it, seize it, and then force it to do your bidding. The latter I was my forté. I didn’t know how, as of yet, but in the end …I’ll be getting more than a third. A lot more.

“Well then, I must be on my way. Buenos noches, Captain. And be sure to discuss with our man, ah …”

“Mendoza, Excellency.”

“Whatever. Be sure to discuss method of payment. Haggle at all costs. See what is the smallest amount he’ll take. And remember, don’t tell him anymore than necessary to get the job done! Report to me on the ‘morrow in the square by the palace balcony and don’t be late. I have something to show you.”

“Yes, Señor Gómez. I have a feeling we won’t miss much, in the end. You’ll see.”

I nodded and downed my remaining wine down in one swig. It made a hollow knock as I slammed the empty glass down in haste on the tabletop. I turned to leave. This place was absolutely nauseating.

“Oh yes, and Excellency, one more thing…”

“Yes. And what might that be?” As I arose from my chair, I couldn’t help but notice Pérez produce quite an evil grin.

“I wouldn’t bring any horses if I were you, onto the ship.”

My eyes narrowed quizzically. Pérez just continued to smile that frighteningly confident grin of his, even after drinking another swallow of wine. I wonder if he was up to something as well. I dismissed the meeting with a shake of my head and headed towards the door. I exited the dank tavern into the torch lit alleys. The walls reached for the glittering sky like cracked gray arms of lepers for alms. That final comment of Pérez’s gnawed at my side, and chafed my skin like poor fitting armor. Then I realized just what he meant by ‘no horses’. I smiled into the dark dangerous shadows of the Sleeping Barcelona. My laughter echoed with such clarity I noticed when it returned to my ears as disembodied like it was that of another man.

* * * * * * *

1500- Coria del Río[vii]

The grasses cut the sky into shards of azure like they cut my arms in neat wet stings as I run. I can almost hear the river, now, slapping the slick rocks at its bank. I run faster and as my speed increases it turns everything around me into a mosaic of shade, sun, green, and sky. I can smell and feel the coolness of the Guadalquivir it doesn’t smell like anything I can name, it smells of the colors it is: aqua, green and silver. I can hear the waves now. They are loud as the sea. That only can mean one thing if there is not a storm. A ship is sailing upon the usually serene and quiet Guadalquivir river. When ships sail, in their path they leave an incision that causes the water to peel in both directions and crash upon the shores. That’s just with one ship, when there is a whole fleet of them, or when they are very large galleons the waves become so unruly and spill so much water on the banks, it seems as if their will be nothing left of the Guadalquivir but dry river bed. My sister Guadalupe likes when that happens the best, she likes to run up and down the bank and see how close she can get to the waves before they come crashing after her. She screams as if running from a hungry wolf and runs to me as I stand upon a rock or sand bank shading my eyes like sentinel trying to get a better look at the ships as they pass by.

We yell at the men on deck wildly waving our hands. We yell until it hurts and our cheeks are hot. “Hola!!” Sometimes the men wave back. Sometimes they don’t. Every once in a while, you can see the captain in his fine clothes usually a long dark jacket, fancy hat, or glittering armor standing erect and still as a statue supervising his crew atop the starboard. He never waves back. Always the crew are small like dolls and the ships loom over the banks of the Guadalquivir river and you can hear the creaking of the timbers and the masts moan with each push of the great Guadalquivir's strength. Sometimes the ships masts are naked skeletons the ropes dangling like loose sinews in the breeze. And sometimes they are clothed in grand sails that hover above them like billowing clouds. When they are naked they are leaving Sevilla, when they have their sails full of wind like the chest of a very arrogant man, they have returned from Cádiz, the Mar Mediterráneo, or more far off harbors such as Barcelona. Sometimes they have come from somewhere even further than that. They have returned from a voyage across the Océano Atlántico, from the New World.

I was always excited to see the ships. I remember seeing many of them throughout even my earliest years as my parents were involved in investment of goods brought from the New World. These were to supplement small but often successful crops, such as grain and grapes for wine, that were grown by the people who paid taxes on our land. However there had been famines here and there, and my mother, took the advice of her father, the Barón Victoré Vega de Luch.[viii] She decided to invest in the emerging trade industry with the discovery and recent colonization of Hispania and mysterious lands beyond…just in case. Both parents were equally active in the import/export circuit. They ran their estate and side business in trade with precision and synchronicity. They came from different backgrounds and classes, but shared the same phlegmatic persona. They were both arrivistes[ix] with the same determined dark eyes that where as cold as shards of black ice, but burned hotly with ambition.

My father Señor Iñigo Gómez de Gúzmán, had his own contingent under their Majesties, the Great Catholic Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella. He had fought for my grandfather during the Reconquista[x] earning fame and honor as a hidalgo[xi] and eventually the hand of my mother. He was very tall, his shoulders broad and heavily armored, he was dark, and yet very pale. His face was long, almost gaunt, and his eyes were deep set and trenchant. His physical appearance along with his rank, and overriding attitude made him very intimidating. It was because of this reason that when he wasn’t working for their Majesties, he was the one that bargained with the usurers[xii], bankers, merchants, and captains. Sometimes, he actually got to go on the ships to supervise and evaluate the cargo. He often brought along two bruisers hand picked from his regiment for their superior swordsmanship to accompany him on deals. Not even a Medici dared to swindle my father. One captain, Captain Enrique Pérez of Cadíz, was his partner and though he wasn’t from the ranks of nobility, he was a very successful and had become a powerful merchant. He also had a son close to my age who was now old enough to accompany my father and Captain Pérez when they went hunting.

My mother, Baronesa Estrella Vega de Gómez spent most of her days in her enormous study amongst the tomes and codices that walled her in like polychrome bricks of leather. She diligently tended the books, weighed currency, calculated expenses for the profits made by import. Also she did the usual taxes and census of the estate her family had managed for generations. My mother was a very industrious woman known to take on and complete many tasks at once. Besides managing both New World import profit and taxes, she educated me and my younger sister Guadalupe instead of hiring a tutor, who probably couldn’t have given me lessons that were superior to hers anyways. She also ran our household -fully staffed from stable to nursery- with the help of our two faithful head servants that had come from her father’s, the Barón’s, estate in the north. Our home was an expansive and graceful villa that was built on a cliff that loomed over the Quadelquivir as if admiring its own reflection. My mother ran the house smoothly and simply but with the stern shrewdness that my father ran his regiment. But she was also known for her fairness and in times of great need, kindness. The peasants that farmed the land and resided in the little village of Coria del Río respected her, especially the women. She was a Baronesa in her own right and she, not my father, bore the title of the land though the estate belonged to both of them through marriage.

She was also well read. It was her that I first asked about the New World. The faint echoes of that conversation I still remember.

“There are two Worlds?! What’s this one called?

“The old world,” my mother said gently.

“What are we going to do with the old one now that there is a new one? Who made it?”

“ No . . .”she momentarily clasped a chuckle in her palm, “It wasn’t made at a different time. We just didn’t know about it until a man named Cristóbol Colón sailed a ship across the Atlántico and found it there only six years ago.”

“Why don’t people live there?”

“Oh, but people do live there. They are very different than us they have bronze skin and wear flowers and jewelry instead of clothes.”

“No clothes! Even the ladies? Don’t they catch cold?!”

“Its very warm in the New World. They don’t need clothes.”

“If I lived there I would still wear clothes! I wouldn’t want the girls to see me naked!”

She laughed again. This time she left her hands clasped elegantly like two strands of a necklace in front of her dark skirts allowing the laugh to gain bass. I scowled under the ends of my bangs with my arms tightly crossed. She noticed my silent request for more serious handle of the matter.

She replied while wiping away a tear, “Well maybe the people haven’t any nice clothes to wear. Maybe one day when you are all grown up, you will bring them some.”

I laughed uncrossing my arms and leapt to turn cartwheels. The late afternoon grass was cool beneath my palms.

“Yes! I will bring the naked people clothes and they will love me so much I will be their king!” I announced in a sing song voice to the birds that darted ahead. The sky switched places with the ground for an instant and I landed once again on my feet. My hands were stained green I dusted them off on my pants as I ran to catch up with mother who had strolled ahead of me.

“Lets move to the New World, Mother!” I said tugging at her heavy skirt her gilded ring of house keys that I recall never seeing her without tinkled like bells in the wind. She didn’t respond. But I knew her answer as she put her hands on my shoulders and we gazed at the shrinking fleet of ships slinking down the Guadalquivir which the sky and sun had made into a long immense mirror. My mother and I had an uncanny bond. I don’t know even to this day whether it was because we were so close, or simply that we were so much alike, but we often could express thought without word, and often without gesture. I looked up at her face, there seemed a kind of longing in her gaze, as if she were left behind.

“New things are better than old things anyways!” I sincerely added.

She smiled down at me like a Madonna then returned her gaze toward the ship, now no more than black silhouette stamped into sun. I looked like a coin slowly melting into the Guadalquivir river, turning its waters into gold.

“Perhaps one day, my son, we will!” she answered me. But the seriousness in her voice seemed more like she had answered herself. There was silence after that, nothing but the wind and the faint lapping of the glittering water upon the rocks of the banks which had slowed from the waves that were produced when the great ship were made its watery gash. And for a moment we stood watching the ship that was no more a dot on the horizon as we wore the gold of the setting sun.

* * * * * * * *

I awakened to a sound not unlike that of glass beads being carelessly spilt upon the stucco roof tiles. The ceiling was still gray because the drapes had yet to be opened. Damn, its raining again! The last week or so it had been pouring. And I for one was absolutely tired of walking around with damp hair and beads of moisture caught in the fur lining of my coat which only evaporated into humidity whenever I reached shelter. I walked to the window and pulled open the drapes. The sudden exposure to the morning light caused me to squint my eyes before I focused on the dreary city streets below. The usually tan cobbles were a shiny brown and people walking below were followed by faint doppelgangers that were attached at their heels. Beyond the hills of red roof tops, I could make out the slate gray horizon of the sea. It was cut into bits and shards here and there from the angles of buildings of the city. Yet it was alive with white spots that appeared and were gone—whitecaps. Here and there I saw straight pins slowly move above the rooftop which were the masts of passing ships. My home seemed to be those hidden shards of gray other than the city that tried to conceal it. No matter how much I longed to dwell behind the yellow warm light of the windows, I seemed forever pulled back into those gray shards. I sighed wistfully to my cold empty bedroom with its minimal furnishings. Soon I must get going as I am scheduled to meet up with Pérez in the town square. I was anxious to see how things went with the navigator.

I had slept in my clothes again. So there was no need waste time getting dressed. The chambermaid had left a razor and a saucer of water on my bureau, as always. As I shaved I realized that this was probably going to be the last time I’d get a decent shave for a while. I’d become quite a pro at keeping a steady hand aboard the rocking floorboards of a ship. Still it usually takes a day or so to once again gain a center of balance. That short period is long enough to get a couple of cuts and maybe snip a little too much off of a well kept beard. I pulled on my boots and strapped on my amour. I paused once more to glace at my refection. I ran a hand through my hair on the way out the door.

I declined the cook’s insistence that I eat a couple of bites of the breakfast she had prepared for me that day. The doorman was slipping my coat on behind me. I would regret missing the breakfast, her excellent cooking skills would be greatly missed over the next five to eight months. “It’s the truth,” I told her as I adjusted the cuffs of my jacket. The compliment pacified her and she returned to the kitchen with muttering scoldings about how I don’t eat right. I turned to the doorman and ordered they prepare my trunk for my voyage upon my return.

“Don’t worry about the smaller trunk. I’ll pack that one. Just have it open and set it upon the larger” I added as I jerked my fur lapel to straighten it. I turned toward the door held open for me. My house was very well run. I had learned from my mother how to employ trust-worthy servants. They were very loyal. I never had to ask twice . . . if only soldiers and subordinates were that cooperative. I raised my hand in farewell to my doorman and he bowed and nodded in return. I would miss them. They were the closest things I really had to family since I returned to España and bought this house in Barcelona a couple of years ago.

The streets were unexpectedly crowded for such a dreary day, but with good reason. It was festival week and the people of Barcelona were determined that weather alone could not stand between them and rare leisure. The break from toil was sweeter than honey. Every guild would not let a little rain ruin the chance for them to proudly display their artistry in the parade. The sky was a single square of swirling gray and milky wisps that reminded me of gruel. The rain had subsided at the moment but I could feel raindrops start to collect weight in my hair. I entered a vacant alley which was a short cut to the square. Suddenly the silence was broken by the yips of a small dog and the tapping of light footsteps rapidly echoing the next alley. It became louder and I paused at the portal of a small alley connecting the two. In an instant, a brown, gray, and tan blur flew by. I paused I managed to make out a little bit of …what seemed to be…a dog chasing a sack with legs?! I rolled my eyes skyward before pressing a shaking hand to my weary temple. Too much to drink or not enough sleep? I asked a reflection of myself in a murky puddle before continuing onward.

When I arrived at the square, I scanned the area for Pérez expecting him at any minute. Finally, I spied him strolling along with his short arms tucked behind his back slowly looking at a strip of vendors. This was after a couple of ladies separated from a conversation and their skirts no longer blocked my view. He raised a hand when he noticed I had arrived. I made my way through the tangle of shoppers quite easily because my height is greater than most. From my lofty perspective, I saw a sea of homogeneous heads and with the occasional hat floating like ships upon it. Poor Pérez was probably seeing a dense jungle of chests, cloaks, and armored torsos that choked out all buildings and muddled one’s sense of direction.

“Buenos Dias, Señor Gómez. You look well this morning”

I grinned at his obvious attempt at flattery which I didn’t believe. I had seen my gaunt complexion in a couple of polished silver wares at one of the vendor’s stands.

“Likewise, Captain Pérez ” I returned the favor. He had been up all night as well, but seemed slightly more chipper.

“Judging from the color of your face, I surmise the talk with your navigator went well?” I was commenting on the jovial hues that highlighted his complexion.

Pérez blinked in bewilderment then chuckled, “Yes, sir. Everything was carried out to every last detail. The man has an impressive repertoire and certainly seems to have knowledge on the matter. Why, last night he told me he had already spent all yesterday scoping out the layout of the city and studying the palace from the outside”

“And you gave him my diagram and notes of the layout of the interior palace?” I had spent the whole night after receiving Pizzaro’s summons laying those out, mostly from memory.

“Yes I did. Though he commented that he has already made some of his own and has formulated how to go about acquiring what we need.”

Pérez paused for a second noticing my annoyed expression. He continued despite my knitted brow. “He is already one step ahead of us, Excellency. He even claims that he can have our “package” all wrapped up and ready to go, undetectable, in the cargo hold at a certain time tonight.”

“Oh does he?” I spat. “He had better if he knows what’s good for him! Such a boast better be backed with excellent results. I haven’t patience for liars and braggarts. Pérez, you better make sure that crate is delivered on board the Esperanza not a moment later than he promises. If it is late by one moment, I want that man arrested where he can rot in chains for making a fool of me and my abilities with his empty promises! Let him spend his days bragging to the rats!”

“As you wish, Excellency,” he nodded compliantly.

I tucked my arms behind my back and clasped one wrist with the opposite hand. I sighed wearily, and turned back to Pérez. “ I haven’t met this navigator of yours yet, and already I’m becoming quite irritated of his arrogance. My disfavor is a place you don’t want to be.”

“True, Commander. But he really is the only man for the job available at this time. If we tarry any longer Pizzaro might . . . well, Señor, you know how he can be!”

I felt my face blanch as Pérez brought attention to the pressure I had carried on my shoulders for days. Pizzaro’s letter could’ve been the answer to some bastard riddle. Odd how a simple letter light enough to take flight on the gentlest harbor breeze when opened contained the weight of as much as two anvils that the opener was forced to carry upon his shoulders.

We had began to walk away from the market square, weaving through shoppers like tall meadow grass. We walked towards the harbor and the city of masts, rope, and sails waiting patiently for their crews came into view. They turned the sky into pieces set it a stained glass window. The palace balcony where Queen Margarita kept her court was before us ahead. That is where we needed to be. I had already stopped walking and looked up at the lofty balcony jutting from the otherwise uniform building. Pérez noticed and automatically mimicked, though I could see a slightly confused look on his face as if he didn’t know what I was looking at.

“ No, you are right Captain, we shouldn’t waste anymore time…” I continued, my gaze still locked on Queen Margarita’s marble stoop, as I weaved through the crowd to obtain the best view. “That is true and also it’s too late to turn back now. He already knows about our plans. Who knows what he would do with that information if we cancelled this assignment and forfeited any rewards he might have been anticipating?” What I was looking for hadn’t appeared quite yet. I turned my head over my shoulder to face him feeling the metallic coolness of my amour graze right below my jaw line.” You did discuss payment, like I requested?”

“Certainly. He requested a fourth.” Pérez huffed slightly out of breath, struggling to keep up with me. Luckily for him, that last remark gave him his chance.

“What! Are you completely mad?” I had stopped so suddenly in my tracks my heels left the ground at the same time. I quickly turned around. Pérez almost ran into my chest. He blinked at his refection in my armor. “I told you to haggle!”

“I did Señor!” he sputtered, defensively stepping back. “I tried almost every tactic I could muster, but he was relentless. He threatened to walk out if he didn’t get the pay he desired. He even pulled an ace he obviously had up his sleeve the whole time and Señor, he played that card like it was wild!”

“Which is?”

“That he knows what he knows!”

“The dog! Chantajista![xiii] How dare him threaten to blackmail me—a senior commanding officer in His Highness’s army!” I had paused, my arms rigidly thrust akimbo as I glared down at Pérez.

“He seems to be a mercenary completely blind to military status and superior rank, Señor.”

I was just about to answer, but a slight movement on the balcony caught my eye. It was one of the heavy drapes on the door to the palace balcony as one of the Queen’s ladies opened it for her. This slight movement might have been difficult for most to spot from so far away, not to mention from a place so high up. I, however, could spot such minute movement with pristine clarity. It was a talent of mine, and to one I owed most of my military career. It was in my ensign days that I first took advantage of this inborn strength, and was given the nickname Ojo de Lince in honor of my almost supernaturally good vision. As I increased in rank the nickname shortened to El Lince, both to describe my vision and my triumphant night attacks. It also referenced the shrewdness with which I went about carrying the attacks about for el lince[xiv] is one of España’s most cunning night hunters.

“Just a minute, Pérez. I want to show you something” I interrupted him, abruptly silencing his explanation of his affiliates poor-bred disrespect for men of honor.

When I had captured his attention, I beckoned toward a huddle of people gathered around the main street. We walked along the waiting crowd for a while until we stopped at a group of people who stood in front of the palace balcony. Every once and a while they would look towards the towering complex mass of the city as if waiting for something. They were waiting for one of the floats in the festival to round the corner. Odd, I thought, they were starting a little early this year. From within the palace, the Queen and two of her finest ladies appeared. Their jewels and glittering pastel gowns glimmered dully in the daylight. Their sparkling glory was impeded by the clouds that enveloped the sky like a cataract. Queen Margarita silently addressed the cheering crowd below with a regal nod. One of the ladies noticed me and shyly shot a coy smile my way. She waved before straightening her skirts and regaining her poise at the Queen’s side. Perez noticed and nudged me with his elbow. “ Ah! so that’s why you’re so familiar with the inside of the palace,” he said with a wink.

“Don’t be so lewd, Pérez. I’m just well known for my military prowess,” I sheepishly muttered.

“I agree, Excellency,” he retorted with a smirk. “You are quite renown for your prowess at night.”

Leaning on a forearm that tightly girdled my solarplexis, I momentarily buried my face in my hand. I knew his jest was to lighten the tension. It was for this reason I often found him pleasant to work with. However, embarrassingly, that remark wasn’t completely untrue which accounted for my reaction. When I looked up, I noticed a fourth person had joined the three on the balcony. The three ladies bowed in unison as a float went by in the streets giving me a better view of a young Inca girl of about twelve.

Queen Margarita and her ladies folded their hands in prayer as the girl causally remained standing on her willowy legs. Her eyes were emptily fixed elsewhere, and her expression was pleasant but unresponsive. She seemed so still she might have been mistaken for caryatid relief in the marble of the architecture. What I had wanted to show Pérez had finally appeared. I touched his shoulder to get his attention.

“Take a good look at her, Pérez. That is the girl I told you about.”

Pérez smiled quite slyly, as if he knew something that I didn’t.

“Yes, that’s the Inca girl, Commander Gómez. That’s the one we’re after. Little Zia. They say she can understand the writings of the Incas.”

I continued to gaze at the balcony as I indifferently answered, “Yes, Governor Pizzaro is depending very heavily on it.” Still slightly shocked and pondering how Pérez knew the girls native name though I didn’t remember telling him.

“Mendoza will take care of everything. The plan will be carried out to the letter,” he continued.

That’s right the navigator, I thought. But how could he possibly…? “Hmmm. Mendoza . . .” I dragged the man’s name out like I had never heard it, but the tone in my voice expressed less my inability to remember names than my intrigue with just how much this Mendoza actually knew.

I turned back towards Pérez who stood confident with a smirk either from faith in his intermediario who obviously knew more than what was good for him. Either that, or he thought I had once again forgotten the man’s name and it was starting to amuse him.

“Yes he is the ideal man for this sort of work, ” the smirk grew even more twisted as he finished off his sentence with the delight like an over zealous soldier has in finishing a foe. “He will do anything for gold.”

Our conversation was interrupted to the protests of a child, screaming at the top of his lungs. The locals—sailors, and town folk alike—were hoisting the boy, claiming he could command the sun. This was the first time I had seen the boy, though I had lived here in Barcelona a year or two after my jubilant return from horrors of La Florida.

“ Put me down!” the boy screeched. Little more than a speck now, his white robe waved in the gray curds of clouds like an insignia of surrender. He continued to scream at the billowing sky above him, persuading it to rain even more so his tormenters would return him to the ground. What he was saying exactly I do not know, for I am honored for my vision, not my hearing. But that voice, I had heard before. It sounded almost like …“that sack with legs!” I murmured under my breath, not loud enough so Pérez could hear or so I thought. Pérez shot a puzzled glance skyward.

“What was that Commander?”

Embarrassed, noticing my impulsive thinking out loud, I cleared my throat.

“Oh, nothing Captain,” but it was no use we were once again interrupted by a sudden hush amongst the crowd, in the streets, and though the interior city of Barcelona that was louder than the thunder and angry gray sea crashing upon the shores that had preceded. Everyone gazed in awe, as the gray sky became once again a turquoise tile cleaned of the ashen clouds to reveal the sun which shone like a great golden doubloon. It bathed us all in its warm light and in the shimmering puddles which quivered each with their own smaller coins which could never be pocketed. We all stood as if turned to stone like certain creatures I faintly remembered in the stories my mother told which she had heard from her Flemish mother. I never met that grandmother. She died before I was born but I know I almost surely would’ve enjoyed her stories. In the few seconds of silence I also thought of that king in that story that I recall as being one of the first I read to my mother proudly in Latin. We all became like Midas’s daughter for a moment, Pérez, myself, Queen Margarita even the Child of the Sun himself seemed in awe at his own power. He was swinging and the creak of his ropes was the only sound in the normally noisy city which was now silent as death. I managed to pry myself to pan the city of golden statues in their arcane eerie silence and suspended animation.

Suddenly the crowd broke out into a roar of cheers. Women danced, men threw their hats up into the air, and children waved their arms upon the shoulders of their parents. Even the Queen herself prayed before rising to clasp her hands. Her eyes were dewy with admiration and awe under the weight of her diadem. Captain Pérez crossed his breast with a shaky genuflect and I hung my mouth agape in amazement. Everyone was in a frenzy of astonishment and even marvel. That is everyone except the small figure that stood quietly on Margarita’s balcony. Zia the Inca girl stood silently with her arms behind her back. Her face blank with an archaic smile. That shocked me more than the powers of the boy. She must know something. Something about the Cities of Gold.

The crowd was so loud I didn’t notice the tug at my sleeve until I casually turned to tell Pérez we needed to go down to the dock to the Esperanza to check in on Captain Gaspard who was supervising loading. Instead of Pérez, there stood a nun, she bore an insignia that made it apparent that she was a nurse at the hospital my father lay in. Her plump face was wracked with concern and full of urgency. I leaned forward, cocking my head in her direction hoping to hear her above the ruckus of the thrilled crowd. I couldn’t make out what she was saying but I immediately recognized her intent when she mouthed the word “Father”. I felt what little color in my face drain without delay. I knew I had to go. I turned to Pérez who only gave a somber nod. Appreciative of his understanding, I lifted a hand in departure before I broke from the crowd in a brisk stride that grew, suddenly, into a sprint.

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[i] . Literally translated in English, “eye of lynx” or “lynx eye”. But the compound is used in Spanish to comment on keen eye site, like the English term “lynx-eyed”. Also, the title is a pun, because “lince” is also used to describe a shrewd person in Spanish. And a shrewd person is crafty, and clever. (like how fox is used in English) Also the word shrewd meant “evil person” in Middle English. Half of the narrative of my fic is merely M.C.o.G from Gomez’s point of veiw. (who is shrewd , and a major antagonist) and we are seeing the events from M.C.oG. through “the eye of the lynx (or antagonist)”. There is more on why I chose this title, and the symbolism around it, I will be posting that soon._-S.J.

[ii] . Middle man

[iii] black eye

[iv] One of the styles used to address a Barón. (that’s all im saying right now! )

[v] Niccolo Machiavelli wrote “The Prince” published 1513. a manual for rulers /men in power. Though its origins were in Italy, it was written in Latin, which many well-read nobility from all of Europe could understand. If I could use one word to describe M.C.oG’s Gómez it would be “machiavellian” which means one that resorts to being back stabbing, or underhanded to gain personal goals regardless of personal morals. (sound familiar! Lol)

[vi] Today an ensign is one of the lowest ranks in the navy. In Gómez’s time and quite a time after that it was a rank in the army that was right below Lieutenant making it 3rd in command in that particular company. Each company had one ensign, and he was usually a junior officer, usually, like Lieutenant, and Captains, he was from a wealthy family. Sometimes a commander (M.C.oG’s Gómez rank) of several regiments had his own ensign. Also ensign is the rank of the King’s Fifth Gómez.

[vii] A small riverside town located 40-70 miles south from Seville. and quite a bit more north of Cádiz. Sea-born trade between Seville and Cádiz was made possible from travel up the Guadalquivir, a river that runs through both Seville and Coria del Rio.

[viii] I know Luch is not a Spanish surname. (spoiler!) Also: if I may comment on Spanish/Latino names. Usually each person has 2 surnames, the surname of their father’s father in the middle, and the surname of their mother’s father is on the outside, often after a ‘de’ or ‘of’. When a woman is married she can either take her husbands name, dropping her mother’s surname after the ‘de’ so she is “of “ her husbands house. Many women just keep all three surnames her husband’s being the last. In Gómez’s mothers case I chose for her take her husbands last name, even though she wasn’t the type. Mostly its too long, and I haven’t chosen a surname for her mother. The children produced in the marriage take both paternal surnames from each parent, fathers surname first, mothers last. Example: Gómez’s sisters full name is Guadalupe Gómez de Vega.

[ix] A climber (as in the corporate ladder)

[x] A series of wars, usually resulting in expelling Jews, Moors (Muslims)..(which is ironic because yours truly is Syrian/Lebanese decent and could be descended from some of those Moors.) resulting in a sort of ‘ethnic cleansing’. Could be compared to the Crusades. The one Gómez’s father fought in was going in the late 1400s.

[xi] like a knight. Associated with el Cid. They had very strict codes of honor and behavior. I think M.C.o.G’s Gómez acts according to this code sometimes. ..I’ll comment more about this later in the story.

[xii] . money lender with interests… loan shark is more like it , in some places it was illegal and looked down on by the church.

[xiii] blackmailer

[xiv] lynx pardenia the Iberian Lynx or Spanish Lynx…the most rare lynx , and sadly, one of the most endangered species today.