Chapter 7

The Governor of Buenos Aires swore an oath

The letter from Lima brought bad tidings

For a moment, the Governor asked himself why he was surprised. Angry and upset, he could understand by why the feeling of surprise The Viceroy of Peru, did not put pen to paper, to ask after his health. Nor did the Viceroy send an epistle across a continent. To praise the Governors good looks. A letter was a command. It was to cajole and too often condemn. There

Indeed at worse it could have been his death warrant.

After all, did he really expect the gates of Eden, to be reopened today? If was so would the news come from Lima

The morning began with a storm, in his heart.

No it was a blizzard. Cold wet, listless rage gripped him. The Governor fingered his neat dark beard. The slave who shaved him did a wonderful job. His master was a handsome man. Just on the cusp of a virile middle age. His family had been in Buenos Aires since the beginning of the colony. As a boy the Governor remembered seeing his Grandfather struggle to use a quill. Indeed had inherited his grandfather’s big hands. Now the Grandson, of simple sailor was Governor.

There were times he envied his Grandfather

After the bad news from Lima there were his audiences. After the wolf made its kill, the crows gathered

It was only fair, supposed the Governor. There were people tormenting him from thousands of miles away. It would not be right to turn his neighbours away from the dance

There was one Audience that demanded his attention like the sharp pains of gallstones.

So now the day would be spent in contention with those damn Irlandessa. The dam wild Irlandessa! They where the largest nail in his cross

The Indio’s and the slaves turned Men’s hair grey. They had troubled his father who was only on the council It was true in Lima, even in Mexico city. The Ingles and the French in the new world went to their beds, with Indio and Slaves troubling their sleep

Life the great river, had a unique codicil

It had begun with the Irlandessa. They had been the first. The first of the newcomers. The schools of new people washed up with every tide were another headache. A score of different tongues praying to different saints.

From all over Catholic Europe they had came: Aragonese and Rhenish Croats and Milanese.

The city had begun to sprawl out over the plains. New houses. New churches There was talk of the town becoming a bishopric

Such noble things did not help with the stench. There was more noise, more shit and fighting. More whores and thieving, and more taxes. Then anyone had ever imagined. When they had first sighted the river.

The Irlandessa claimed credit for this. The Irlandsessa claimed credit that the sun rose, and set

It must have been a perverse spell. Perhaps it had been the design of the Heretics all along to undermine the Spanish empire. Whom the Gods wish to destroy they first send mad.

The Monks had instructed him well, on the Greek masters. Oh for the days when he only had to worry about the Brothers strap!

The Irlandessa after being driven from their Island about a century ago. Still aroused the ire of the Inglesis. Like Hannibal to the Romans. The Wilde Irish hid in the hearts of the heretics. An accursed inheritance. A wise Ambassador passed over them when dealing the Heretics The Iglesias and the cursed Dutch had forced his most Catholic majesty, to send the Irish out of Europe.

A small price for peace it must have seemed to the King. Many were flung against the Moors

A few of the Irish were pressed into service, into an expedition to the Plata.

Like the horses, turned loose on the Pampas. The Irlandessa, had flourished

The Governor knew why, he had seen it in his own eyes, and heard it from his father. The Irlandessa, didn’t use saddles, and basically lived off nothing else but milk and beef. This was there paradise.

It was like locking a seducer in a nunnery or a drunkard in a wine cellar.

Or perhaps like the Elysian Fields or the Valhalla that the pagans believed in. The Irlandessa had found their heaven. The Governor remembered an old joke that his father whispered to him.

``Surely Christ did not die for these people’’

It was said by the Spanish General who had fought alongside the Irish, when they killed the heretic king.

Diego of Scotland.

The Irlandessa never got tired of reminding him of that. They had reminded the Governor before him. They would be reminding the Governor of the children of his children

The horrible truth was the Irlandessa had been their deliverance. They had been the difference between famine and feast. They had run off the Portuguese merchants. They had hunted down the Indios. They had lived on milk, and beef, when Castilians and Creoles had turned up their noses.

The hides and the grain they sent back to Spain Earned Merchants money. Money they spent digging the mines. Constructing barracks for the Slaves and Indio’s. The Mines paid for Empire. Not as much as Lima, but still a goodly sum. Then ships brought People from Europe. More hands and trades.

Oh it was a curse, to have to be grateful, to people you despised

Why could he not have had a quieter life perhaps preaching to the Moors? No he would run into Irlandessa there.

Escape ! He could escape! Steal the servants hat and cloak, and make to the port. Or head towards the mountains. Find some long lost tribe of Indio’s and live naked and Godless

Alas it would have to wait till tomorrow. A glance at pocket watch, confirmed his sentence

The priest, slammed the bible closed, and the hangman placed the rope around his neck...

The servant announced the Governor. The duties of the day began

The first supplicant bowed, and introduced himself. A drover clad in expensive boots, and a good linen shirt. Indignant at a barn burned by indios. Another man, quite tall was asking for clemency for his son. There were the sisters of charity looking for money for a house for lunatics.

A score of papers, were signed. Warrants and requisitions. A long day’s work, that had begun with the sunrise. Accounts and invoices sealed.

The representive of his most Catholic majesty, looked up from his desk.

It was certain he had died. The damn Irlandessa had killed him.

It was a conspiracy. The New comers had a hand it in it to There were more arriving at every high tide The New comers and the Irlandessa had conspired with the wretched slaves,. Finally the Indios had joined the plot. All Buesnos aires had killed him. They had stopped his heart with melancholy and rage.

The Good lord had sent him an angel to guide him to heaven

A servant announced her

The lady Valene Rodrigo and her Mother the Lady Helena greet you. They have heard of your wisdom and honesty. They are two feeble women and they beg for your protection. Two Widows whom have come here to Buenos Aires to take shelter from the war and rumours of war across the sea.

Mother and daughter curtsey. A curtsey that would have won praise at Escortial and Paris

The daughter was a tall blonde. Like the willow tree that reminded Odysseus of Nausicca. She was slender and graceful. Bright eyes and white teeth flashed at him Her skin, was lightly seasoned with the sun.

Aquinas would have rejoiced to have proof of Angels, demonstrated. The Irlandessa reminded him that the adversary was still in business and indeed, had a thriving practice

A well dressed servant ran into the room.

There was supposed to be a steward. There were supposed to be guards.

Your grace...

``The O’Neill, ‘’

There were supposed to be guards. There was supposed to be a steward.

The O’Neill , and his son . The O’Neill of Clandeboy. The McSweeney, The O Sullivan . There was a about a score of them. The heads of the Irlandessa families, and their oldest sons

``Gentlemen, I bid you welcome Thank you for making the journey to meet you’’

The Governor would answer to his maker, for such a bold faced lie.

The Irlandessa spoke about the ship. The ship that had burned the small village. How the Sailors had wounded the son of the O’Neill. There he was tall and blond like Hercules. The killing and burning of the women’s house, and the violations rendered on them was recounted.

The Irlandessa demanded of him Vengance

They insisted on action for the honour of the realm. To heaven, and Madrid they demanded action.

After being lectured again After being regaled with a footstep by footstep of evey indio the Irlandessa, had hunted down. Every heretic they had slain, in the wars. They Moors they had After being told about every dollar they paid in taxes, and the vast amount of beef and hides they supplied.

They again cried to God, and several of their perverse saints for vengeance.

The weather cleared for a moment.

The Governor was left with an ulcer,. The Viceroys letter had been clear. There would be no move, against the Heretics. The Ingles and the Dutch. His most Catholic Majesty was quietly feeling for peace in Europe. A move against the vipers nest to the North was forbidden

There were still other petitioners.

There was a man, who wanted to build a shrine to our Lady

A widow of a man, who was killed in a duel.

Oh how the Governor wished he could settle things with the Irlandessa like that! To know the question would be settled by the noon

There were too many of them. They were like weeds in the cornfield. Or the Hydra’s head. There would be another to take the place of their fallen brother

The Governor, frowned. As an Italian Marco of Petroni, begged him to write a letter of introduction to the Viceroy

Frustration, would dine with beside the Governor and his wife tonight

They had informed the Governor they would return tomorrow. A second delegation, would call at his house before the governor would sup. Another would greet him as the sun rose. Then the O Neill would parley with the Governor once more

Hugh watched as the party said their goodbyes. Don Neill was staying with his father in the Great house. The two would talk, about the old days and the old lands, for a long time into the night.

The Governors door, opened, and the light and smells of the day struck them

The delegates was met, by their kinsmen, and clients. Followers, and friends. Some of the mob had stopped to see what the fuss was. Beggars and onlookers made up the rest of the din.

Hugh watched as his father clambered on to his Mount. A servant held him. . He was in the Winter of his life. The O’Neill then addressed the crowd.

``We shall be back to speak to the Governor tomorrow. The Governor may forget his obligations. We will not!’’ ``God save you all, and God save the King’’

They did not want a riot. The streets were quieter, then the mornings, They had in the middle of sisesta time. The Irish had never taken to it.

It was a mark, of those who followed the Irlandessa, and those who followed the older settlers

As the great river divided the land custom divided Buenos Aires.

A page boy handed, him Rosc’s reins. The lad had had some Indio colour. Well it did not matter in the stables Rosc began to canter home.

Juan met him a little up the road. Track really. Politics demanded a balance between strength and restraint. To call upon the Governor, with too many men at arms. To have too many horses then the mob, and the Castilano’s might riot. No one wanted that

Juan tipped his hat.

At least he was not smoking his master mused.

Juan watched as his Masters, left the Governors house. They were quiet and frowning. Some made strange Oaths. To the front of the Masters men, he took his horse

Two strumpets one with very large breasts, called out after them . Juan rode on quietly, his eyes somewhat tardy as he made his way to the fore of the group. Shouting in Spanish to make way.

A street rat barefoot and ragged asked for alms. Juan shouted there would be meat at the House of the O’Neill. Good Meat and Bread!Meat and Bread for all the honest and loyal subjects of the Crown!

The party continued on their way home. Past the fish sellers.

A Housewife, haggled with over the price of crabs. Demanding the stall holders tell her if she looked like a shoeless indio. They responded, with questions about her faith. One enterprising Fishmonger looked u , and offered the Young Don a large crab. Hugh tossed the man a silver dollar. Too much for a crab. Hugh nodded to Juan. Who told the fish monger, that the Good lady would dine on his dollar.

A Taverna full of toughs, and sailors glared silently at the procession. Hugh felt his pommel. Juan, had his French musket cocked. Some of the Men, in the Tavern looked like they had Slave blood.

The new comers hated the Slaves, as the Irish hated the portugese and Castilanos. Juan would talk about slaves as if they were the Personal bodyguard of the English Regent himself. As the enemy only offered mutter curses. The party rode on

There was a friendly sight The. twin steeples of his Chapel. Juan doffed his hat. Hugh removed his hood. The party crossed themselves. The High king of Heaven, demanded his homage. God was listening and watching, in their dispute with the Governor. The King of Kings would be watching his servant in Madrid, and his Servant in Lima

A pig startled someones horse. They were lucky. It could have been a bad bolt.

Hugh Dismounted. Some of the party started on the way back to their houses and homes. Juan remained in the Saddle. Riding over to take Rosc’s reins. His little musket, never uncocked.

The Steward and a servant greeted Hugh at his threshold. Another member of his household. A cousin or nephew’s of Juan. Stood off, with a pike.

The Young prince pulled of his hood. He was home at last

It was his mother’s house. The Basque countess, his father had been matched with. She had never been happy in the O Neill’s Great house. She had called it a fort, when she was being polite, and a stables when she was vexed. So his father, had her built a house in the town. In her country’s style. The house had been worth its weight in gold. His mother, was settled, and at ease. Decorating the house, and guiding the servants. His father, had a place, to bring newcomers. Emissaries from the viceroys. Ships captains.There was a picture of his mother on the wall.

She had been fair even a little ruddy perhaps. Father had thought she was a red head before their wedding night. Which made the women of the house laugh. . She had been taken from them too young. His father mourned her all his days.

What was that smell...?

Juan, Juan, I shall not tell you again. To the Kitchen...

A servant came to take his boots. He removed his hood. There was warm water waiting for him to wash. After drying on good, linen. A good glass of wine embraced him as crossed his threshold

``How is my daughter?’’, demanded the Master?

The steward asked, for the wet nurse. She entered and bowed.

`` My lord your daughter is well. She has been sleeping well. A little ange!@@

``My thanks Maeve’’

The O’Neill’s brought nurses from the old country. Maeve was devoted to her charge. Hugh had decided to keep her on. Despite the fact that she seemed to be convinced, that the great river she could see from the chapel, was but the Shannon, a wee bit upstream.

The steward ushered Maeve away. Hugh told him, he would lie down for a few moments. Then he summoned Juan.

Keep an eye, on the bread and meat. I don’t want a riot

(Or you bothering the maids)

The steward coughed

My lord

``My Lord your Tennant and his wife. Beg your leave to introduce you to

The lady Valen and her mother.

Hugh opened his eyes, and looked up. Oh it was.. Oh yes Antonio, and his wife. They kept a large flock on the lands, near la tigre. They would be in town. To pay their respects. To show their faces. Good people. Antonio asked him, how things went with the Governor, and asked him advice on what to do, with his flock, should the problems continue.

Antonio then introduced his wife. It was his second wife. He had sent for her from Bilbao. The first had died in confinement.

The same time as I was married.

Antonio after he made the pleasantries decency demanded. Bemoaned the strife that had befallen the land. Then asked of Hugh, to take a Christian and knightly interest in these two respectable women. Who driven from Europe by the Moor and the Heretic, sought sanctuary by the great river

There was a clean quiet matron, in modest black.

Then she was there. She was dressed modestly. She was dressed well. She could have been a courtiers wife in Madrid. She could have been the pretty widow, of the principal magistrate of one of the Italian cities. Fair like his mother had been. She was different thought. Her face was like some of the new comers, from Bohemia. She was a good height.

As she curtsied they eyes never left his. They were clever eyes. Like a book keeper. They missed nothing. Like a hunter. They missed nothing.

Beautiful.

Like a Tiger

Her mother began to speak. She recounted the perils the two had faced, since they left Europe. The Mother then began to weep. Hugh had a chair brought for her.

``You must forgive my mother. We suffered so much. My Husband was the Count of Vitrio. A loyal officer in the army of his most Catholic majesty. My Husband lost his life, fighting in the civil war in France. He was a brave man. In the artillery he served. He lost his life, at the siege of Montpellier. Where my mother and I escaped, with only our virtue and our clothes’’

( For a moment Hugh cursed both)

We have come here. To the lands of the Plata. To seek shelter from the wars of Europe. We turn to you the strongest son, of the most noble family. We implore your protection. You are a father and a widower. We know that the name and reputation of your family is a safe harbour from the storms

The mother, suddenly lunged, forward. She fell to the feet of Hugh, and grabbed his knees

I beg you in, the name of your ancestors. You heir of Naill ‘’

``I am your servant ladies. ‘’

Hugh managed to bow. That had surprised him

Antonio thanked him, for his time, and left.

Hugh eyes followed the blonde, like a boy staring at the girls in the chapel as she left his house...