Elementary by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online

that the flagship of each squadron carried a priest who was also a
mago
. And if they had been placed by design, surely these were the most powerful
magos
in Spain, each assigned to bend the winds or waves to do his bidding, which was the bidding of the King. This Armada was commanded to bring soldiers to join with the land armies of the Duke of Parma in Flanders, to invade England and add it to Spain’s other conquests. Rodrigo’s jaw tightened in bitter resentment at that thought before turning back to the piles of rigging, his callused hands working along another length of rope. More than a hundred years of Spanish rule had not been enough for his people to forget their heritage, nor their sympathy for others who struggled against Spain.
    The winds shifted slightly, and at a command from the
contramaestre
, the officer of the deck, he left his coils of rope and sprang to his position along the port lines of the
palo de mesano
, the third mast from the fore of the ship, hauling on the lines with the other men, bringing the lateen sail around to catch the dancing breeze. The triangular sail snapped once, twice, then filled as the decksmen raced to secure the ropes, the mast swaying with the pull as the flaxen sail curved outward, filled by the new wind. The timbers shuddered as the ship slowly came around, gaining every bit of speed possible from the air current that Don Ruarte had caught between his thin fingers and sent with them. The ship’s carpenters and divers had managed to repair the fragile rudder damaged by waves during the last storm, but the
San Lorenzo
would still be hard-pressed to catch up to the rest of the Armada before the coast of England was sighted.
    The trill of a pipe played by one of the ship’s boys marked a change in the watch, and Rodrigo hastened back to the pile of rigging, tidying the coils for Alonzo, the apprentice who came to take over the task. Free of duties for the next eight hours, he made his way across to the starboard side of the deck. Leaning against the rail in a cramped corner, he could just make out distant sails with the Burgundian cross of King Philip to the north. Rodrigo glanced up once more at the
San Lorenzo’s
full sails. With fortune, they would rejoin the fleet by late morning.
    His eye was caught by the movement of a small
patache
, a scout and messenger ship, coming from the north, tacking back across the wind to approach the
San Lorenzo
. The helmsman gave orders to bring in the sails so that the
San Lorenzo
held her position, rocking in a trough between the waves while the faster ship came to her. When the
patache
was near, but not so close as to risk fouling either ship’s rigging, she drew in her sail and let down a small oared boat, which drew to the side of the much larger
galleas
.
    â€œDispatches for Don Hugo de Moncada from the Duke de Medina Sidonia!”
    At the shout from below, the
alférez de mar
, third in command to the ship’s
capitán,
nodded, and the decksmen lowered the boarding ladder. Securing the small boat to bob in the waves beside the
San Lorenzo
, the messenger and his oarsmen scrambled up the rope ladder to the broad deck. The
alférez
whisked the messenger to the
camarote
, the highest tier of the sterncastle, to meet with Don Moncada in one of the private cabins, while the oarsmen were offered water from the best casks left in the hold.
    Still keeping to his idle pose, partly hidden by the bundles of hammocks and sleeping partitions stowed along the rail, Rodrigo strained to hear them.
    â€œWhat news of the fleet?” one of the decksmen murmured.
    â€œA scouting ship sighted the coast,” replied one of the oarsmen, “but the Duke has ordered delay for repairs and redistribution of shot rather than striking the heretics in their port, as
El Draque
attacked Cadiz.”
    Rodrigo concealed a wry smile. That sailor, at least, believed in the proclaimed intent of the Armada to restore the