Paradise & More (Torres Family Saga) Read Free Page A

quarters.
           “The river air was ever oppressive,” he murmured as he inhaled the humid decay. Just as he passed a cluster of oleander bushes, he heard voices and footsteps crunched on the gravel. A tall man with faded red hair, shabbily dressed in a blue doublet and much-mended black wool cape, stood talking with a rotund little man in the brown robes of his office. The eleven-year-old boy standing beside his father saw Aaron first and raced across the space separating them, yelling a joyous welcome.
           “Diego Torres! Is it truly you? I hoped we would meet again ere my father and I journeyed to France.” Round brown eyes were the heritage of his Portuguese mother and now they sparkled in pure delight as the boy embraced Aaron.
           “Yes, Diego, it is truly I. You did not think to lose me so easily, did you?” Ruffling the boy's curly black hair, Aaron said affectionately, “I bring good news. You need not fear having to master yet another strange tongue. The Court of Charles VIII is cheated of your father's dream.”
           “Torres! It is good to see you, my young friend,” Colon said as his long strides brought him quickly across the courtyard. “Once already you saved my life at the siege of Baza. Now do my ears deceive me, or do I owe you yet another debt?”
           The two tall, slim men clasped each other in a firm embrace as the short, plump figure of Fray Juan came trundling up to them. The Franciscan watched as Torres handed a paper set with an official seal to Colon. “Word from their Majesties? Is the Enterprise of the Indies to be pursued then?” he asked excitedly.
           Cristobal's keen blue eyes crinkled shrewdly as he broke the royal seal. “I do not think that King Fernando would have sent the son of his most trusted physician all the way from the encampment of Santa Fe unless he bore news of some import.” He quickly scanned the contents of the missive. “After languishing for six years, I will at last be vindicated!”
           Aaron put a restraining hand on Cristobal's arm. “Do not let your hopes swell too soon, my comrade. Until Granada falls, the king and queen will only study the matter. Their sole concentration is on driving the Moors from their last stronghold.”
           “But that surely cannot be long in coming! You fight with their armies,” young Diego said with assurance.
           The three men laughed at the boy's exuberance. Then Aaron replied drily, “Even so formidable a soldier as I cannot banish Boabdil·s army quickly. Perhaps by year's end.”
           “But I am saved from leaving Castile to plead my case in France,” Cristobal said gratefully.
           “I do not think King Charles would be inclined to listen,” Fray Juan interjected.
           “I agree. The French are everlastingly embroiled in Italian politics, but with the coming of peace in Castile, the monarchs will need the wealth that a trade route to the Indies promises,” Aaron said, brushing off his dusty clothing.
           “You have journeyed far on royal business and must be weary,” the friar said. “I will have a meal and a bed prepared. For now, rest in my library with Cristobal and Diego.” With that, the friar scurried across the courtyard, summoning workers to do his bidding.
           Once comfortably ensconced in the heavy leather chairs of the library, Aaron and Cristobal sipped wine and discussed their plans as the boy sat between them on a stool, listening with rapt attention.
           “It is most fortunate that you arrived now. At first light we would have been gone,” Colon said.
           Aaron's lips twisted wryly. “Some might even say it was God's will.”
           “I am one such.” Cristobal's voice was quiet, but his eyes glowed with fervent fire. “My enterprise will not fail.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Seville, January 1492
     
           Aaron surveyed his