I’m a long way away from my Comfort Zone

This week, I’m talking about writing something that I’ve never attempted before.

I’ve written fiction in several genres, but it all has one thing in common. It’s set in the present, the future or an alternative dimension. I’ve never attempted to write historical fiction. To be honest, the whole idea of being restricted by known historical events has never appealed to me. I prefer to have complete control over my world and what happens in my story.

In 2021, my writer’s group published our first anthology, consisting solely of stories set in Devon. We’ve been trying to compile another, but it’s been slow going. Along with several other group members, I’ve been having trouble thinking of a Devon-based short story that I could write for inclusion.

Then, a programme I saw on TV, about the life and times of Sir Walter Raleigh, gave me the germ of an idea. One of the most famous events in Devon’s history is the sighting of the ships of the Spanish Armada off Plymouth, when Francis Drake (a local lad from Tavistock) finished his game of bowls before setting off to engage the enemy fleet.

This was the possible scenario that my mind came up with, related to the Spanish Armada.

What if this were true?

I like to think that scenario sounds plausible as a piece of real history. I was pretty sure I could weave a tale about that possibility around things that actually happened. Before I knew it, I had a story buzzing in my head, centring around the discovery of a letter from one of the conspirators.

This is the letter (as translated).

Some parts have been assumed, or not translated at all, due to the poor quality of the original.

My children, this is a message from your father, entrusted for delivery to you by my brother in arms Raphael De Silva e Coruna. By the time you read this, I will be dead from my wounds but rest assured your legacy is intact and awaiting your arrival, once the situation in this beautiful yet benighted country has improved and old enmities have been forgotten. Because at the end of it, we are all creatures of the Almighty, even the heretic English, I can see that now my end is near.

I do not fear death, I welcome it secure in the knowledge that I did my Saviour’s will. For the same reason, you should not mourn me. What I could not tell you, was that, three years ago, the Holy Father, yes, the Pope himself, through our glorious Monarch, gave me a sacred duty to perform. I was to save the heretics of the English Isle and bring them back into the Papal fold, to the glory of His name.

In total secrecy, even from you, my family, I was ordered to go to England, to the town of Dertemouthe, posing as a merchant in wines and wool. What I could never tell was that our vessel carried gold, as well as letters to the brave Catholics who resisted the heretic Elizabeth’s persecution.

And the reason, it was to prepare the way for the inevitable victory of the coming invasion. When we learned that the arch-heretic Drake and his acolytes destroyed our ships by fire and the minions of Satan caused the winds to scatter the remnants of our fleet, I knew that all was for nothing.

Wishing only a speedy escape and return to the bosom of our families, we secured our treasure and papers for safekeeping and set off for our ship at Dertemouthe. Near the ford at the hamlet of Hareburtonne, we were set upon by three men of the protestant militia. In fighting them off, I was wounded by an arquebus ball, which passed through my leg. Although no bone was broken, the wound has mortified and I can smell the sure scent of corruption.

So, I have put my affairs in order. The gold is safe, as are our papers, revealed in the place where the heretics Drake and Rawleigh sat. Let the enclosed token, which is a symbol of our brotherhood, be your guide. May the scales of misunderstanding fall from your eyes, as you behold the last fish in the river.

With my love and God’s blessing,

Your father,

Sebastian Alvarez Du’Que.

Dated the 12th day of October in the year of our lord one thousand five hundred and eighty-eight.

If you thought the title of the story was a little obtuse, that might have helped.

I’ve spent the last few days on intensive research. Now all I have to do is weave fact and fiction together, solve all the clues, and I’m in business.

What do you think of my choice of story? Let me know by commenting below.

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