In Defense of a Lady

According to records from the middle of the 17th century, the southern coastal town of Marbella, Spain, in the region of Andalucia, was a trading port, and still quite small. Being so, the inhabitants could not help but notice the arrival of a tall and beautiful young lady named Frederica, who had come from Seville to spend the summer with relatives. They were captivated by her elegant crimson gown with its low neckline, and her curly brown hair, which she wore longer than most, and adorned with a ribbon and pearls. To her female cousins, Frederica was like royalty, and she regaled them with her examples of the latest fashions, and her ability to speak French. She had also brought a finely crafted five-course guitar, for which she had taken lessons, in keeping with the style of all the elite families. Each afternoon, she would play the music of Foscarini and Corbetta, and the sounds would ring so clearly it was as if bells were in the air.

Those things about her did not go unnoticed by the men of the area, and soon a host of wealthy admirers were vying for her attention. Among them was Juan Carlos del Encino. Much older than she and thinly built, he was known to be quite ill-tempered and outspoken. He was apparently shy with women, for not a word had he spoken to her, even after she had resided there several weeks. Though in his mind’s eye, he was positive of the admiring way she looked at him. When he finally introduced himself to her one day after Mass, he added so little to the conversation that it must have appeared doubtful to anyone that she would even remember him afterwards.

Nonetheless, Juan Carlos later managed to boast to his male acquaintances of his love for her, and vowed that she would someday be his. He was entranced by her beauty, and with every breath, she became absolutely all he could think of. To himself, and then to the others, he vowed that there was nothing he would not do to win her love. For this he was mocked, and told that he should certainly do something. It was pure folly, they said, that he could even imagine her marrying him--a gruff old goat, and now, a dreamer. But he considered himself no different than the others who worshipped Frederica from afar. His chances were just as good as theirs, he said, and no one, and that included all the noblemen of the town, was going to change his mind.

Maximo Delgado, a wealthy man of business, had also met the girl, and though she had not responded to his discreet advances in the way he had hoped, he believed also that she would one day be his wife. A large man with an evil looking face, Maximo had a black mustache and a pointed beard. He detested the clothing styles of the other wealthy men of the day for he considered them to look feminine, with their lace and stockings, and heeled shoes. Instead, he wore a wide brimmed hat, a cape which concealed his sword, and boots. And he only wore black, which had long since gone out of fashion, and not because he was Puritanical, but most likely to make himself look more menacing.

But if there was one thing in the world that he disliked the most, it was Juan Carlos. The two men had once done business together, but had never been friends, and over time they had come to despise, and even hate each other. Maximo had even threatened to kill Juan Carlos, and since that day, sincerely wished he had done so. Eventually, word of Juan Carlos' love for the girl reached him.

“He speaks of undying love and worships the ground she walks on! Why, if she even knew who he was, and that he walked upon the same earth, she would reel with disgust!”

So Maximo also made a vow, and that was to keep Juan Carlos away from Frederica with any means necessary. To all, it appeared that another meeting between the two was imminent. In fact, Maximo had recently been overheard speaking of an evil deed to a merchant on the docks, a man who also hated Juan Carlos.

“It is simply a matter of circumstances that has prevented me from killing him thus far. Truly, it was at the Zarzuela performance just last month that I nearly took his despicable life away. As I moved among the crowd through the lobby and into the theatre, the wretch had his back to me. My dagger hung in its sheath from my belt, concealed by my cape. If not for the number of people in the room, I could have destroyed him with ease. Yes! Yes, I wanted to kill him right then and there! I envisioned how with a simple movement I could easily slit his throat. But there were far too many potential witnesses present, and my heart beat wildly as I struggled with what to do. I then contemplated stabbing through my cape and into his lower back, when an acquaintance of his and also mine, walked up to greet him. I turned away quickly before I could be recognized, and walked onto the dark street.”

Having spoken those words, he then displayed his talents as a swordsmen right there on the dock, much to the amusement of his friend the merchant.

“The fool! I will carve him up until he resembles a butt ham on a plate!”

After frightening many a passerby with sharp thrusts, Maximo became bored, and joined the merchant in a bottle of wine upon the deck of a ship. He twirled the ends of his mustache, and belittled all within his vision, demonstrating such a degree of pomposity that there was no doubt that he would indeed kill one day, or else be killed himself.

Later in the day, and far from the docks, Juan Carlos was the invited guest for early dinner at the seaside villa of Fernando Vasquez y Cruz, an amiable man who would be the last to agree with violence. Their conversations were lengthy, and covered a variety of topics until the name of Maximo was somehow mentioned, and after that, Juan Carlos could speak of nothing else.

“Hideous man! He is so full of himself that I am surprised he is not leaking from his ears!”

“Has he wronged you?” Fernando asked.

“He has wronged every person of refinement that lives!”

“Very likely, but…”

“He will soon have maggots for brains!”

“But what makes you say…”

“He is perverse and without conscience. I shudder to think of how he treats women, only to then discard them like common trash. Well, he will do no such to my lady! He will find himself a crumpled mass on the floor!” Juan Carlos then went on an endless tirade against Maximo, to such a degree that Fernando was shocked and dismayed.

“Please reconsider your position. It cannot be worth risking your life.”

At that, Juan Carlos got up from the table.

“Gracious host,” he said sternly, “the life taken will not be mine.” He then took a bow, but as soon as he had risen, the son of Fernando rushed in, with word that the pirates had attacked the nearest seaside town.

“Perhaps they won’t come here,“ sighed Fernando.

“Or perhaps so,“ said his guest. The men wished themselves well, and Juan Carlos left in an extreme hurry.

The Barbary pirates, also called Ottoman corsairs, terrorized the coastlines of Spain, Italy, Portugal, and beyond. Once largely under Muslim rule, by 1492 the Spanish kingdoms of Granada, Aragon, Castile and others had been retaken and unified by Christian armies, thus forming the basis for modern Spain. The Muslims were expelled, and settled in north African cities such as Algiers and Tripoli. Banding together with the local Arabs and Berbers, and ruled first by the beylerbeys of North Africa, then the Ottoman pashas, they began raids of revenge that lasted hundreds of years. Driven by their teachings that those who did not acknowledge their religion were sinners, they preyed on Christian and non-Islamic ships and ports, plundering and taking thousands of prisoners. The rich were able to buy their freedoms, but the fate of the poor was slavery. Highly prized were white European women, who were sent to live in the harems.

At the home of the Moreno family, where she had been living, Frederica stood on a balcony with a cousin. They had heard the news of the pirates also, and were worried. As the sounds of cannon fire shook the air, they shrieked in horror, for it was the pirate galleons firing upon the ships in the harbor, The family was panic stricken, and each person ran in first one direction, then another. Frederica did not know what to do, but finally calmed herself enough to grab a few personal belongings.

At the same time, the thought of Frederica in the hands of the pirates shook Juan Carlos to the bone, and he rushed home. He devised a plan to take her farther inland, and was prepared to fight the pirates to defend her honor. Calling out to his servant, he instructed him to prepare his horse, and to take another horse and a cart of possessions to Rondo, where they would later meet him. Juan Carlos downed a glass of wine, and assured himself that all would go well. He then left with his sword at his side.

But someone else had similar intentions. Maximo held the ivory handle of his long, slender sword and admired its sweeping hilt. He had practiced the art of “defensing” since he was young, and could easily overwhelm most opponents.

As he positioned his hat, he assumed that Juan Carlos would be fool enough to try and take Frederica away from him. If so, it would be his pleasure to not only take the girl but to also finally kill the fool once and for all. He made a thrust in front of the mirror, then put the sword in the scabbard and went out the door.

Outside, the dimness of dusk was enveloping the narrow streets. Maximo too heard the cannons, and there was no time to lose. He mounted his horse and rode through the town. Beyond the Church of the Incarnation was the home of the Moreno family. Maximo saw another person’s horse standing near the door, and knew that it belonged to Juan Carlos. Maximo laughed at the stupidity of the man.

“Pompous… dreamer! Soon I shall pin his neck to the wall!”

Maximo went inside, calling out Frederica’s name, yet there was no answer. It appeared that everyone was gone. He rushed up the stairs. Looking only at his boots as he took each swift step, he didn’t notice the figure standing on the stairs above him, and he winced as the broad side of a sword slapped him against the side of his head. It was Juan Carlos. In an instant, he felt another slap, this time to his other side.

“Prepare to die, fool!” said Juan Carlos boastfully. “You have not dealt with the likes of me!" Juan Carlos considered himself the superior swordsman, and he toyed with Maximo much the same as a cat plays with a mouse.

The slaps continued, and as Maximo grappled with his cape to get at his sword, he lost his balance and stumbled down a few steps. Red-faced and breathing heavily, he slowly pulled himself up by the hand railing, and wiped the sweat from his hands on his clothes.

“Now,” said Juan Carlos, “You truly look like the fool that you are.”

“Idiota!” shouted Maximo. “I’ll cut out your meaningless tongue!” With a firm grip on his sword at last, he swung it back and forth in a fury, and made Juan Carlos retreat up the steps. Down the hall they fought, and they burst through the double doors of a large parlor, a place where there was normally gaiety and entertainment, instead of duels. Outside, as night fell, the screams of the people grew louder, and the air was filled with smoke from fires set by the torches. The pirates were working their way through the streets, and the carnage was unstoppable.

Maximo began to get the upper hand on his opponent, and Juan Carlos fell backwards over a chair. He righted himself, but at the same time dropped his sword, and Maximo pinned his shirt against the wall. Then it was Maximo’s turn to ridicule Juan Carlos.

“You are presumptuous and disillusioned, to think you can defeat me. Your head is so big, I’m surprised you can lift it in the mornings. Now, as you have learned, my speed and skill are unmatched. Using just my sword, I will pluck out your eyeball and flick it against the wall. Then I’ll pull out your entrails and wrap them around your scrawny neck until you choke.”

But Juan Carlos had a hidden dagger, and with his left hand he slashed Maximo’s arm, causing the big man to withdraw his sword. On they fought, until they were out of breath and sweating profusely. Finally, they simultaneously stabbed each other--Maximo’s sword piercing the length of Juan Carlos’ forearm with the tip stopping at his elbow, and Maximo receiving a strike through his upper lip and gum.

Maximo staggered back against a window sill, and his blood ran in a torrent. Making use of its long curtain, he held it against his mouth, soaking it in blood. Feeling weak, he then crouched down near the floor and took hold of another unstained fold of the curtain to use. There were noises and voices from the first floor of the house, but he appeared to not hear it. Sounds of footsteps ran up the steps, then the hall, and the lights of torches danced along the walls.

The pirates entered the room. They were tall, dark skinned men with beards, wearing the white robes and turbans of the Middle East. About their waists were belts holding sabers, daggers, whips and flintlock pistols. One of them wore a leather pouch, in which he carried a collection of ears. Their eyes held the secret to pure evil, and there would be no bargaining with them. The leader of the group said something that made the others laugh at the pair of duelers. Obviously, they had not expected to see a deadly play being put on for their amusement.

Juan Carlos stood on his knees, the sword still piercing his arm. His loss of blood was great, and the flow could not be stopped with the sword still there. In a show of false bravado that surely would not have happened had the pirates not been there, he began to inch the sword out with his other hand. But he could not continue through the pain. Suddenly, one of the pirates rushed up and pulled it out. The screams of the injured man could be heard down in the street. The Moors laughed as he lay on the floor and briefly went into a spasm. Finally collecting himself, he knew he had to think of something that might save his life.

“Why… don’t you kill them, M-Maximo?” he yelled in a shaky voice. “You’d said you could kill a hundred Moors! Maximo was unable to respond, and could only point at his accuser. Juan Carlos positioned himself to face the pirates.

“Yes… Yes, a hundred Moors! T-That he has said! Then… when he’s killed you all…” Juan Carlos struggled to catch his breath. “He‘ll have… his way with your women!”

The pirates pulled Maximo away from the window, and he held onto the curtain, pulling it down from the wall. He was unable to fight back, and they turned him over and held a torch between his legs. He screamed loudly and spat bloody foam, but before he could put the curtain back to his mouth again, they set it on fire. Then they turned to Juan Carlos and struck him on his head with a torch, causing him to rub his burning hair in a frenzy of movement. The swirls of sparks that resulted caused the pirates to laugh, and so they hit him with it again. A garrot was put around his neck, then both men were shackled, and dragged out the door.

As the pair were brought down the stairs, they heard the screams of a woman outside, then the sounds of a struggle with swords. Just outside the door, by the light of the torches, they were astounded to see Frederica upon a horse with a man. She had one arm around his waist while the other held her guitar. He was the same age, and her true love. With one last flash of his sword, he turned the horse around and they rode off into the darkness. Frederica had been saved, and would live to see another day.

Juan Carlos and Maximo were pushed out onto the street, and forced to join a group of captive townspeople as they went past. With a feeble voice, Juan Carlos cursed Maximo, who in turn used his last bit of resolve to strike his adversary in the eye. The pirates laughed at them both, and abused them further as they took them to the sea gate. When the ship left for Algiers, it was assumed they would pay ransoms for their freedoms, but neither were ever seen in Marbella again.