THE GOLDEN ROSE

Chapter 6 - A Short Interlude

Zacatecas, New Spain – 1770

Sebastaio watched Clara be dragged away by her mother with a roiling gut. He would bet his last escudo the older woman had made a bargain with the Don for his son to marry her daughter.  He hadn't known Francisco long but what he did know he did not like. He knew men like him though, and the thought of that lecherous boy laying his hand on her made him clench his fists in rage.

But it was not his business and not his fight.  This was the way of the world. Marriages were brokered to join houses and share power and wealth, in the same way he would be required to wed Amelia on his return.  This would have happened if he were not here, and soon he wouldn't be.  He had spoken, finally, to the Don before the performance this evening and he was so grateful for Sebastaio's willingness to play a recital that he had promised him the backing for the expedition.  Sebastaio would keep the rose, anything else would belong to the Don, but he wasn't planning on doing a whole excavation, he would find where the artifact was hidden and take it home.

In his family, it was known as a rosa dourada, but here in New Spain only by it's Spanish name la rosa de oro.  He would head out in the next day or so, retrieve it and return, and he would forget all about the beautiful Senorita and her outrageous proposition. He could not return to his room because he would have to go through the crowd of guests who would no doubt wish to talk to him, so he went to the stables.  He would stay there until the guests all left.  He didn't wish to be there if they made an announcement this night.

He didn't light a lantern, he just let his eyes adjust and found the stall of the mare he had been riding, her name was Girasol, the Spanish word for sunflower. He entered the stall and let her nuzzle him. She loved him, he would miss her when he returned home.

"Do all women throw themselves at you like that?" came a voice from the darkness.

He turned, startled, to find Clara sitting on a milking stool with a dark coloured blanket wrapped around her, disguising her in the dark.

"What are you doing here, Senorita?" he asked.

"Same as you I think. Hiding."

"Why are you hiding? I thought you would be there announcing your betrothal?"

She snorted. "What was my mother thinking? First the old Don, and now that joto!"

Sebastaio snorted at the vulgar insult, unable to disagree. 

"I see you know him then, by your response." she observed.

"I don't think he has much respect for women," Sebastaio said politely.

"That is an understatement," Clara said, and proceeded to tell him why she had been in Spain.  What was her mother thinking, knowing he had assaulted and impregnated a young girl and yet still offering her daughter to him in marriage?

"So is the marriage off?" he asked.

"I doubt it, they're probably organising everything as we speak, but therein lies the joke because I am not going back.  Home I mean.  I sent my footman to the house so my maid can pack for me and he will come back with my horse."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure, just away from here," she said, and it wasn't until she said those words that he realised the huskiness in her voice was from tears.  How heartbroken she must feel at her mother's betrayal.

***

"I'm sorry, Clara," he said softly and his kindness broke her open and the tears that had thickened her throat now poured forth.  She was ashamed to show such emotion before the beautiful Portuguese man. He must think her a weak and silly woman, which she definitely was not.