Going back in time, Francisco managed to get out of the inn after talking with the priest and the de Castro boy. Once outside, he went to look for his servants and his little sister.
He found them where he had left them: his sister was playing with other children — some mestizos and the children of a couple of wealthy families, with their servants nearby. Francisco walked over to the servant carrying the parrot. His sister called it Bluebeard, probably influenced by the book A General History of Pyrates — at the time that book read like a modern novel, telling the biographies of old pirates with a tint of adventure. Even though it was written as a moral warning, it ended up as an action-adventure tale that inspired children and adults dreaming of that past world. By 1790 there weren’t real pirates anymore — at least not the intrepid kind — and with the modern navies of the great powers they were almost extinct. Still, his sister, who begged him to read the adventures every night before bed, was clearly influenced by those stories. In Bogotá he was often forced to apologize to other mothers because, when playing with other kids, his little sister always grabbed a stick and chased them around pretending to be a pirate demanding gold. Imagine my face every time I had to apologize for my pirate sister.
"Young master, do you need anything?" asked the servant, setting the cage with the parrot on the ground.
"Yes. I need you to take the bird to—" Francisco began, but his sister interrupted him.
"Bluebeard is his name and he’s my loyal mate, you sea dog!" she shouted, brandishing a stick and pointing it at Francisco as if to duel.
Seeing he couldn’t escape a death duel with his little pirate sister, Francisco feigned solemnity. "Will you let me say my last words to my servant before my death, you fierce pirate?"
"I’ll allow your last words only because I feel compassionate," she replied, allowing the official older brother his moment.While he spoke, Francisco signaled with his eyes to another servant to pass him the stick. "Take the parrot to the house and tell Father to bring money. Tell him I want to start an industry — I need workers for it," he whispered. The servant nodded, passed the stick, and Francisco tossed it up, caught it, spun 180 degrees, and took a fighting stance.
"Oh, you fierce pirate — your days of plundering are over. This officer’s name is Blas de Lezo of the Crown, and I will defeat you and bring peace to the American coasts," Francisco declared, striking a dramatic pose.
"That’s cheating," Isabella muttered, rehearsing her lines under her breath. "Fine. My name is Isabella Gómez — the Caribbean Serpent, the fiercest and prettiest pirate of the Caribbean." She raised her toy sword and attacked.
Francisco parried, and the two children began their stick fight. Other kids in the market ran over to watch and started choosing sides.
"Defeat the pirate, big brother!" one shouted.
"No — the pirate is the best! Go, sister, defeat the officer!" called another.
Even some grown-ups were mesmerized by Francisco and Isabella’s duel. In elite New Granada society, especially among the middle and upper classes, women fighting was considered improper or scandalous — another reason the viceroyalty and the Church disliked his father. But Carlos, having traveled the Spanish empire, knew how dangerous the world could be and what happened to women in wars or bandit raids if they could not defend themselves. He had begun teaching both children to handle a sword at six years old. Of course, Isabella was trained carefully and treated well, so seeing two kids so skilled at fighting felt exhilarating to most common folk. Some conservative people frowned, but by 1790 many women in the viceroyalty had already taken part in local rebellions, repelled pirate raids, or defended their families — so for many ordinary people a fighting woman was not shameful.
"Bah — what kind of savage is that? Who was so irresponsible to let this scandal happen here?" scoffed a burly boy dressed like high society: a linen shirt, brocade waistcoat, and short pants.
Francisco, enjoying the fight, immediately frowned and looked at the boy. Isabella, hearing the insult, attacked again while he was distracted. "Ha! I win, you dirty officer!" she crowed, hands on hips and chest thrust forward in proud defiance. The other children ran to ask Isabella to teach them swordplay.
Seeing his sister distracted, Francisco strode toward the burly boy with a fierceness that silenced many. Five servants rushed forward to protect the boy — the son of the Restrepo family — and warned, "Don’t come closer. This is the young master of the Restrepo family. Anyone who harms him will make an enemy of the family."
The burly kid sneered, "What a low person, daring to fight me, a high-born." At once Francisco’s servants drew their swords and pointed them at the Restrepo boy and his retinue.
"So you represent the Restrepo family. By insulting my sister you insult my house. I demand a duel for the honor of my family," Francisco declared. Around them, people from middle and upper ranks fell silent. Duels were an exclusive affair among the elite, so insults between families were dangerous; a duel could end in death. The boy had crossed a line.
His name was Darío Restrepo. Though his family was closely tied to the Church, Darío himself was more arrogant than pious, and his reputation for insulting commoners had caused trouble before. Usually such conflicts ended with insults or with his servants giving the offended person a beating — since commoners had no right to demand a duel.
But this time the situation was different. Seeing his young master cornered, one of Darío’s servants tried to protect him."How dare you challenge our young master to a duel? What right does a lowborn like you have to demand such a thing?" the servant shouted, raising his voice so all could hear.
It was a clever move: by questioning Francisco’s lineage, he forced him to prove he truly belonged to the elite before the duel could proceed. Among nobles, if Francisco failed to prove it, the challenge would collapse, and Darío would be safe.
But the attempt backfired. Francisco’s eyes flashed with fury."As a servant, you have no right to question my bloodline. For that insolence alone, you should be punished. Still, since you dared to raise the matter in public, I will answer." He produced a set of sealed documents. "Before all present: I am Francisco Gómez de Serna, firstborn and heir of the Gómez house. We serve directly under the Crown. To insult us is to insult the King himself."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The onlookers — many from respected families — examined the documents carefully, and when they saw the royal seals, their expressions changed to surprise... then to pity as they turned their eyes on Darío Restrepo.
The servant who had spoken up realized his blunder too late. To question the lineage of a recognized high class was a grave insult, worse still coming from a servant. Fear crept into his face, for servants who committed such offenses often faced brutal consequences.
The tension in the air grew sharp enough to cut — until a middle-aged man’s commanding voice rang out:
"Stop."