The Rose Demon

faster but the young Spaniard had stopped, chest heaving. He was smiling, staring strangely at Matthias.

    ‘Come on!’ Matthias urged.

    ‘Why, Creatura bona atque parva ?’ The words sounded so strange in this exotic, humid, strange-smelling jungle: a far cry from the greenery of Gloucestershire, the cool darkness of the church at Tenebral. ‘These are our friends, Matthias. These are my subjects. I will die to become one of them but you have nothing to fear.’

    Matthias heard a shout from behind him. He turned and stared in horror. Two natives had stepped on to the track, blocking his way. Matthias had never seen such fierceness: tall men, darker-skinned than the natives he had met, with cords wrapped high along the calves of their legs. Each carried a club or axe. Their faces reminded him of ghouls, red ochre round the eyes, the cheeks and mouth smeared in white: blue and gold cockatoo feathers pushed into their cropped, matted hair. Matthias took a step forward. Both men were looking past him, eyes on Baldini as if they recognised him.

    ‘Caniba!’ Matthias spat out the word.

    The leader stepped forward, mouth open, teeth like that of a dog, sharp and jagged. Matthias brought the crossbow up and fired, the shaft hit the man full in the chest. The other leapt forward. Matthias struck him with the crossbow and burst into a run, down the sun-dappled forest path. Behind him he heard a cry, a howl, long and blood-chilling.

    The forest became alive with sound. Matthias turned to his left. Dark shapes were now running through the trees but, because of the undergrowth, not as fast as him. He reached the beach. Matthias heard the crash of a bombard, saw a puff of smoke and a stone ball crashed into the jungle behind him. He was now running for the boat. A terrible scream echoed from the forest behind him. He did not know whether it was Baldini or one of his pursuers. His chest ached, his legs felt heavy. He reached the shoreline, the water was cold as he splashed out, arms extended and he was hoisted aboard. One of the sailors was screaming. Matthias heard the twang of a crossbow, oars splashing and the boat pulled away.

    Matthias stumbled to his knees and gasped in astonishment. The entire beach was filling with Caniba, armed with spears and clubs, their coloured, jaunty headdresses bobbing in the breeze. These surged down to the water line, shouting their war cries, waving spears and clubs. Matthias kept still as the oarsmen cursed him. The boat was small and narrow and there was a danger that it would be upset.

    ‘To the left!’ one of them shouted.

    Matthias looked over. Canoes were now being brought down to the water line but, at last, the sailors were out of danger. The boat bobbed against the side of the Santa Maria even as Matthias heard the Captain General order the bombards to be fired again. The three men climbed over the rails: the boat was secured, the anchor raised and the Santa Maria turned for the open sea.

35

    A few weeks later, on Christmas Eve, Matthias crouched at the foot of the mast, feeling the Santa Maria rock gently beneath him. The night was silent. Matthias slipped in and out of dreams of former Christmas Eves: he was a young boy in Sutton Courteny. The snow was falling and he and Christina were hurrying up the path to church. They were going to help his father put up the crib in the Lady Chapel, adorn the transepts and rood screen with red-berried holly and the magical ivy. The church bell was tolling. Matthias was given the task of taking the baby Jesus and putting it before the high altar; the statue of the Christ child would not be put in the crib until Christmas morning. Then he was at Oxford, he and Santerre singing in the choir, ‘ Oh puer natus ’. And, of course, there was Barnwick; Rosamund teasing him, kneeling before Matthias in their chamber, warming the posset cups whilst making Matthias guess what she was giving him for Christmas.

    Matthias opened his eyes and looked up at the starlit sky. In a week the year would draw to a close. Since the attack by the Caniba very little had happened. Of Baldini there had been no further sign. Matthias had told the Captain General that his companion had been killed outright. The Captain General pursed his lips and nodded. Baldini’s death and the savage foray of the Caniba had clearly shown they were not in Paradise. Many of the crew now loudly protested that they weren’t in Cathay. Columbus was openly worried: they had