THE GOLDEN ROSE

Chapter 10 - Unspoken Words

Sebastaio walked out into the hallway when he saw Francisco walk out with his back to his and Clara's room.

"Francisco," he called. The little weasel turned around and stared at him.

"Are there you are perro Portugues," the boy said, sauntering toward him. There was blood on his sword and Sebastaio realised the boy had injured or killed one of the monks. He felt the familiar fury he had felt as a soldier and his training kicked in. He raised his sword and widened his stance.

"There are five of us, Senhor, and only one of you, give it up, tell us where the treasure is and we'll let you go," he said with a grin.

"Or, I escape, go back to Zacatecas and tell your father of your blasphemas behaviour here this day. He funded this expedition, he knows what I am doing is a personal family quest."

Francisco laughed. "You know nothing about our family and how we obtained our fortune, do you? My father is the one who sent me here. He wants everything, including the golden rose."

"Well, you should have waited longer before attacking because I don't know where it is yet."

"It is here, is it not? There was a picture of a man who looked just like you holding it in the Prior's office."

"What did you do to the Prior?" Shawn bit out.

Francisco laughed. "The fat old man ran away, he'll be alright. The monk who tried to protect him will find it difficult to cross himself with his right hand now that all his fingers are missing."

Sebastaio gripped the sword tightly. Bastardo, he wanted to kill the boy, but it would just bring him more trouble. He needed to know something first however.

"It is not here, I have a number of options as to where it is. Any treasure I find along the way belongs to your father, however the rose is a family heirloom and must return to Lisboa with me."

Francisco chuckled menacingly, looking over his soldier to see where his men were.

"You will have to fight your way through myself and my men, and what are you? A nobleman? A clerk? A minstrel?" He laughed. You silly boy, Sebastaio thought. Francisco did not know that he had been a soldier, that he was an experienced swordsman, not only for fun and exercise like the younger man, but he had fought for Portugal in Brazil and in skirmishes on the Spanish border. He had lived through the earthquake in Lisbon and the Spanish-Portuguese war and the harder times that had followed. He was not a soft and spoilt boy like Francisco.

"Why do you not just return to Zacatecas, Francisco. Did your father not mention that you have a betrothal to celebrate?"

Francisco's face grew sulky. "I did, that is true, but the puta in question has run off to Mexico City, bringing shame to her family and my own."

Sebastaio made a fist, furious at the insult to Clara, but he could not give himself away, for in doing so he would expose Clara and she would be in great danger.

"Threaten me all you like, boy," Sebastaio called. "I have come in search of the thing, if I had it I would be on my way back to Portugal. This is the first information I have found on it, and it really is nothing more than a few vague suggestions on where it could be hidden, but he could just as likely buried it in the middle of nowhere. I promised my family to look for it, if I can't find it, they will be disappointed but they will feel like we have made the effort."

Francisco looked confused. Maybe I used too many words, Sebastaio thought with a wry twist of his lips. A noise behind him distracted the boy and Sebastaio lunged, knocking his sword from his hand, sending it skittering across the floor. Francisco looked stunned and then scared. He was a coward, a bully, a weak and ineffectual boy. Sebastaio had no respect for him, and his betrothal to Clara only reinforced his loathing. Francisco turned and ran, searching for his men, and Sebastaio took chase. He found the other men. They were outside the chapel where the monks had locked themselves in. He crept up behind a pillar and watched as Francisco explained his plight and across behind pillars on the other side he saw Jose and Ohtli, weapons drawn. With all the men intent on Francisco's heavily embellished story, he and his men crept out behind them and engaged them. He called out to the other men not to hurt Francisco. Ohtli carried a kind of machete and he cut down two men without blinking, leaving them dismembered on the floor. Jose engaged another in a fight. Sebastio despatched the fourth man quickly and knocked out the fifth man with a heavy knock to the head with the pommel of his sword. Suddenly the three of them were standing, weapons drawn, in front of Francisco, who now began wheedling and begging.