Chapter 23: Hiding Oscar

After leaving the slave house, Francisco and Catalina headed back to the estate. On the road, Francisco gave her a brief account of what had happened inside.

“So the slave trade suspects the Gómez de Castro family. Do you think they already know about Oscar?” Catalina asked.

“I don’t think so — at least, not yet,” Francisco replied. “But they might suspect something. Right after I left the inn, the innkeeper disappeared. It’s circumstantial, but it could point to us.”

“Luckily Oscar can’t move much, and most servants don’t even know he exists,” Catalina said after a moment’s thought.

“That’s true,” Francisco agreed, frowning. “But Father is throwing a banquet at the villa next month. If we aren’t in the house, someone could sneak in and discover Oscar. We need a safer place to hide him without alarming the servants.”

“Relax,” Catalina said, rubbing Francisco’s shoulders lightly. “Right now they’re probably dealing with their sudden feud with the slave traders. They’ll be cautious around us for a while.”

“Maybe.” Francisco’s eyes brightened as he shifted topics. “For now I need to focus on this new material. If we can make it, we won’t only speed up construction—we could sell it in Bogotá, maybe throughout New Granada. It could become an industry.” He pulled a sheet of paper and began listing materials. “I need local supplies: river sand, crushed shells, clay, even some bricks. If we can make it with what’s available in Antioquía, great. If not, I’ll have to look farther afield.” He said it seriously; Catalina was now his research assistant by intent.

“You’re lucky—those materials won’t be too expensive,” she smiled, hugging him for the remainder of the journey.

Back at the house, Francisco called for a servant to fetch his father. Then he and Catalina went to Grandma María’s room, where Oscar was still hiding. The door was shut; they sat and spoke quietly.

“It seems the slave traders suspect me,” Francisco told Carlos and the still-bedridden Oscar, who had not yet healed. He recounted the conversation with Antonio. “They’re suspicious because the innkeeper disappeared right after I left. It’s just a little suspicion—for now.”

“I’m sorry for all this trouble,” Oscar said. “What should I do? I may not be fit to run, but perhaps I could make it through the forest to Bogotá. I have friends who might help.”

“Absolutely not,” Grandma María snapped. “I have already done too much to keep you alive for you to walk off and commit suicide. Even if you could walk, it would take at least two months without reliable food or water. How would you survive? There are wild animals between here and Bogotá. You’d become their meal. It’s safer for you to stay hidden—besides, no servant would dare come into my room.”

“Grandma María, we’re not worried about our servants finding him. We’re worried about outside spies,” Carlos said, stunned. “If we hadn’t saved you, it might have been better than this.”

“We should hide him in the basement,” Francisco suggested.

“Is there even a basement in this estate?” Carlos exclaimed.

“Of course,” Grandma María said, rolling her eyes. “I told you about it when we first arrived—don’t you remember?”

Carlos looked embarrassed; he had never paid much attention to the basement and had forgotten it existed.

“But the basement is too dark,” Carlos protested. “Wouldn’t it be the first place an outsider would search?”

“You truly don’t know this house,” Francisco said, addressing his father. “The cellar door opens in the servants’ quarters, so there are people around it most of the time—even at night. We can transfer paintings and valuables down there and make the door look like a vault. Then we’ll post two armed servants by it around the clock. We can claim we’re safeguarding our wealth because of spy rumors. Even if someone suspects the room, they won’t dare enter for fear of traps.”

“That’s a good plan,” Carlos said. “But how do we get Oscar to the basement and make Grandma María’s visits seem natural? After all, she still has to look after him.”

Francisco raised his hands. “I’ll handle that. I’ve put Catalina in charge of my finances; Father asked me to use that money. We can say she’s going in and out of the house to handle funds, and Grandma María will accompany her as a chaperone.”

Carlos smirked and teased, “So you have a little wife looking after your assets now.” He pretended to wipe a tear. “They grow up so fast.”

Grandma María looked conflicted. “How can you let that servant take such responsibility?” she murmured.

“She can—she will be my wife. It’s better she learns now,” Francisco said, firm.

Seeing his determined face, Grandma María fell silent; she wasn’t accustomed to imagining a servant becoming mistress of the house.

“Okay, let’s stop there,” Carlos cleared his throat. “Francisco’s idea is sound. With Catalina acting as his assistant, it’s believable why she’d go to the basement with Grandma Maria. Now we must deal with reinforcing the door and arranging the rest.”

“One more thing,” Francisco added, remembering his experiments. “I’ll need a workspace for testing the lime and other formulas.”

“You can use spare rooms,” Carlos suggested, puzzled.

“I don’t want to do experiments indoors—lime dust and vapors could be dangerous,” Francisco said. He wasn’t sure how hazardous it might be, but he didn’t want to risk anyone.

“Then build a wooden workshop somewhere on the estate,” Carlos said, a little reproving. He’d seen how much Francisco had spent on constructions and didn’t want more expense.

“That was my plan, but I’ll need labor—slaves—to build it,” Francisco admitted, cheeks reddening.

“You have fifty slaves and those blacksmiths. Why not use them?” Carlos asked.

“That slipped my mind. Thank you, Father. I’ll sort it out now.” With that, Francisco stood and left to take action.

On the other side of the continent, the Secretary of the Treasury was presenting the first report on public credit, laying the foundations for banking and the modern economy of the young nation.

“Gentlemen, we must give the credit of our country the importance it deserves. Our obligations of war must be fulfilled, so that the world may know our word carries the weight of gold,” declared Alexander Hamilton, his face set with determination. “By placing the debt under the authority of the federal government, we gain both strength and unity. If we succeed in this endeavor, nations with idle wealth will trust us, and even our own citizens will be willing to invest in this Republic.”

Thomas Jefferson countered sharply: “To mortgage our Republic to the capitalists of Boston and the bankers of London—what is this but another monarchy in disguise? You call it trust, I call it dependency. Are you not afraid that by lifting the federal government over the debts of the states, you create a new aristocracy of bankers and speculators? Our foundation should be that of an agricultural nation, free of usury.”

Hamilton replied with calm conviction: “Agriculture may feed men, but it does not sustain power before the eyes of the world. Rome did not rise by wheat, but by credit and discipline. Gentlemen, we are not building farms—we are building a nation.”

The chamber of Congress erupted in heated debate, unaware that these words would one day echo in the mind of Francisco, inspiring him to imagine a system never before seen.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep