The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “Even complex political matters appear simple next to affairs of the heart.” Alejandro shook his head as sorrow engulfed him. “The one thing that often cannot be resolved. Especially when one is King.”

  Suddenly the king of Spain laughed.

  “What is it, Alejandro?”

  “What a sight we must make,” Alejandro mused. “Just the two of us. And the three children with conches. And the twenty guards.” He glanced at the Palacio Real, the Royal Palace, built of granite and white stone and twice as large as Buckingham Palace. “And though I have lost, as you say, someone dear to me, something remains.” He touched his heart. He closed his eyes momentarily, feeling a sudden optimism despite his somber mood.

  “Do you grieve over your father?” Esteban patted Alejandro's shoulder. “Do you miss him? Is this the pain in your expression?”

  “My father?” Alejandro's lips formed a tight frown. “No, Esteban, you are standing right here, how could I miss you?”

  For once, Esteban was without words. Alejandro saw that Esteban was fighting his emotion.

  “Nor am I worried about my late father,” Alejandro added. “He had his opportunity to serve, and only God can determine how well he fared.”

  “God and history.”

  “No, Esteban, the sadness I feel comes from a difference source.” Alejandro closed his eyes momentarily, giving a prayer of thanks he had met Nicolette prior to his father's death. She had changed him, diminishing the pain which accompanied his father's departure, allowing him to cherish that one moment when their eyes met and understanding passed between them.

  “Ah, Senorita Nicolette.”

  Because Alejandro’s need was so great, he fought it. He stood and began walking towards the Palacio Real. Immediately, servants appeared out of nowhere, holding out their hands. The masks, gloves, and Esteban's sword were deposited into their arms. Alejandro preferred to carry his rapier.

  “It is time I began thinking of marriage.” Once he dismissed them and the servants were out of earshot, Alejandro resumed his conversation. “Espána was never in greater need of an alliance.”

  “And who shall be your Queen, Alejandro?”

  “Obviously the most powerful alliance I can manage.” Alejandro stabbed an imaginary foe. “Since the presumed political alliance is more favorable to me than to the lady, I must woo her with my charm.”

  “That should not tax your abilities, Alejandro.” Esteban brushed his hand along the foliage, keeping pace. “And who are the lucky candidates, if I may ask?”

  “There are the granddaughters of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, of course, which would be the most desirable.”

  “You desire them? I am astonished.”

  Sighing, Alejandro turned to look back at the Fuente de las Conchas, now a world away. “This is no time for sarcasm. This is possibly the most important decision I will ever make.”

  “It is one of the most important decisions anyone makes.”

  “True. The future of my country is at stake. Great Britain is one of the most powerful countries in the world, as you are well aware, Esteban.”

  “Very romantic, indeed. Pure poetry.”

  “Princess Victoria Eugenie of Battenburg, a niece of King Edward's, is my favorite of Victoria’s granddaughters.” He swung his sword through the air, making a popping sound. “She is charming. It would be necessary for Ena, as she is called, to convert to Catholicism to marry the king of Spain.”

  “She would have to be very desirous of the marriage indeed. But how could she resist with such ardor as you offer?”

  “The potential is there, I must admit.” Alejandro shrugged. “We are on friendly terms and Queen Victoria favors the alliance.”

  “The passion is blinding. What is stopping you, Alejandro, from kneeling before this woman and promising to love her forever?”

  “My mother prefers Princess Patricia of Connaught.” Alejandro raised his eyebrows.

  “Most understandable. And it fills me with confidence in my king to learn he allows his mother to influence his choice of a wife.”

  “Either would be an alliance of enormous implications.” Alejandro raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was extreme displeasure.

  “Naturally.” Esteban cleared his throat. “And are there any other contenders for your amour, Alejandro?”

  “Most assuredly, my dear friend, there are as many as there are kingdoms.”

  “Do tell. Excite me.”

  “There is Margareta, the daughter of Ferdinand IV, the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Also, Princess Elisabeth, the daughter of the Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria and Princess Stéphanie of Belgium. Erzsi, as I call her, is the granddaughter of Emperor Franz Joseph.”

  “Erzsi? She is cute, to be sure.”

  “I am very fond of Erzsi, and she seems receptive.” Alejandro tried to picture one of these ladies on his arm as he walked the gardens, and, for some reason, no image would come.

  “And which of these ladies incites passion in your heart, Alejandro?”

  “None of them interest me, Esteban,” he heard himself blurt out, placing his sword into its sheath with one quick thrust. “They did at one time, I believe.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. What could account for the change of heart?”

  “For some inexplicable reason—possibly a treasonous heart—I can think of no other woman but Lady Nicolette.” Alejandro shook his head, looking into his friend's eyes. “She has given me a sense of myself I never knew. She has given me my life.”

  “How few men ever know a woman who has that effect on them.” Esteban lowered his head reverently.

  “And yet I cannot marry her.”

  “Lady Nicolette might not be royalty but she is a peer. She might be better accepted by the royals than you believe. And, more importantly, by the people.”

  “I owe Espána a Queen.” Alejandro stared at the Palacio Real, now so close, a huge rectangular prison of immense beauty, cursing under his breath. “A very dull Queen.”

  “If it were known that Lady Nicolette saved the king’s life, who could not love a warrior Queen?”

  “Who indeed? She is rather like a Viking warrior.” Alejandro smiled. “And yet, it is all idle speculation.”

  “Hmmm,” Esteban considered. “Perhaps you wish to marry Senorita Nicolette out of gratitude, Alejandro?”

  “I did not say I wished to marry her, my friend,” Alejandro laughed. “I merely said I did not wish to marry anyone else.”

  “An interesting distinction. It escapes me.”

  “She thrills me.” Alejandro grew suddenly somber. “She embodies…rapture. Her complete freedom and aliveness to every moment is like no woman—no person—I have ever known. I have met many women from every walk of life, and most are either fashionably subdued or suffocatingly gay. With Nicolette, everything one sees is utterly genuine and alive.”

  “Completely.”

  “And divine.”

  “Decidedly.”

  Though Alejandro was less fragmented than he had been in a long time, he missed Nicolette terribly. He missed her connection to everything and everyone around her, and especially to himself.

  And I crave her.

  “With your upbringing of facade and deceit, I can certainly comprehend why a genuine nature would appeal to you, Alejandro. And yet, how is it that a man so devoted to duty should fall for a woman so devoted to her own glory?”

  “Because, in so doing, she teaches the rest of us how to live. I cannot marvel at the stars in the sky, delighting in their mystery, and then condemn them for entrancing me.” The corners of his lips formed a half-smile. “Besides, my friend, Nicolette no more lives for herself than I do. She is devoted to something greater than herself. Something I can never compete with.

  “You intrigue me, Alejandro. Do elaborate.”

  “It is no matter. She would not have me.” His lips formed a half smile. “And the fact is that she is far too extraordinary for me.”

  “Lady Nicolette Hunti
ngton too extraordinary for you?” It was Esteban's turn to laugh. “Alejandro, you are the king of Spain.”

  44

  Music is Life

  “Why do you occupy yourself still

  With a heart which no longer belongs to you?”

  —CARMEN by Georges Bizet

  “My dear Esteban, I am merely a servant of the people and she…she is…”

  Alejandro frowned. The sad truth was that Nicolette was not high-born enough to be his Queen.

  And is, in fact, more magnificent than any woman I ever imagined.

  As they approached the entryway, Alejandro could hear the ceremony of the changing of the guard on the south side of the palace. His entourage of guards were coming closer. Alejandro slipped through the door with Esteban at his heels.

  Damnation! Why does everyone have to hover about me? I realize I must have security, but the mood of the people is much better now. Everyone is hoping for a change, for a different approach from the monarchy.

  And that they shall have. I must set about improving the lives of my people. There is no time to waste.

  “She is…?” Esteban asked, keeping pace with no small amount of difficulty. Alejandro headed for his private apartments as he wished to bathe before chapel and state meetings. They first passed the Hall of Halberdiers, the guard room. He hoped he lost a few guards there.

  “She is…pure bliss. But the fact remains Lady Nicolette would not leave her vocation for me, not if I were—”

  “King?” Esteban asked.

  Alejandro laughed. “Certainly not.”

  “What then?” Esteban pressed.

  Alejandro glanced up at the ceiling. Framed in gold, Venus appears to Vulcan on the shores of Carthage and asks him for arms for Aeneas. Alejandro had seen Tiepolo's “Vulcan Forging Arms for Aeneas” many times before, but it had a special meaning today.

  “Not if I were a warrior god sent from heaven.”

  “But can there be a woman alive who would not wish to be the Queen of a country? To socialize with the world's leaders? To be the mother of the future king?”

  Alejandro chuckled. “You are even more old-fashioned than myself, Esteban. Nicolette does not appear to be the motherly type.” Another point not in her favor. It is my duty to provide an heir.

  “But she does appear to be much drawn to you if I am not mistaken.” Esteban smiled knowingly.

  “There is conflicting data on that premise. When I met her she would have thrown me to the wolves as soon as not.” They were now to the Hall of Columns marked by ten columns of monumental proportions. Of all the rooms this was one of his favorites, beautiful despite its grand opulence. Seventeenth century tapestries of Raphael's ‘Acts of the Apostles’ adorned the walls, astonishing in that they appeared to be paintings rather than woven fabric. On the ceiling was another fresco painting, likewise the size of a small country: ‘The Birth of the Sun and the Triumph of Bacchus’ by Giaquinto, framed in gold and marble. The walls were pink and white, and the hand-woven circular carpet covering the entire flooring was predominantly in maroon and pale blue.

  “And yet, you have changed for the better since knowing Lady Nicolette.” Esteban cleared his throat. “Forgive me for saying so, my king, but you had become arrogant.”

  “I am a servant of the people. Humility is my defining characteristic.” Alejandro said proudly, resuming his pace.

  “True, you are no small prize, Alejandro, you have much to be humble about. Do not pretend to unaware of the effect you have on women.”

  “I may have an effect on Lady Nicolette,” Alejandro remarked softly, recalling his last encounter with Nicolette with no small amount of regret. “Which makes the reality of our situations all the more difficult to bear.”

  Why did we bother to fence? One receives all the exercise one needs simply traversing the palace. Not for the first time Alejandro missed his small quarters aboard ship during his short naval career. They sped past the “Gasp” rooms, the private apartments of Charles III which took fourteen years to complete. Designed by Gasparini, they were an inconceivably dizzying monument to the Baroque style.

  “Very well, Alejandro, but you are not married yet.” Esteban raised his eyebrows with a nonchalance which worried Alejandro. “And we have a coronation to plan.”

  “Yes, but what has that to do with Lady Nicolette?”

  “Music is needed.”

  They reached the staircase, and the king’s guards were almost running to keep pace. Alejandro held up his hand, commanding them to maintain their distance, which they reluctantly did.

  He rested his hand on the head of a life-size statue of a lion flanking the end of the magnificent staircase, and the vision he presented appeared to have some impact on Esteban.

  A slow smile formed on Alejandro's lips. In an instant his spirit soared with the implications.

  “You are correct, Esteban. Music is needed. Music is desperately needed. Music is life.”

  45

  Infinite as the Sea

  “I’ve so many things to tell you

  Or, rather, only one

  But that one huge as the Ocean

  as deep and infinite as the sea.”

  - La bohème by Giacomo Puccini

  “Mademoiselle Nicolette! Arrêtez! Arrêtez!” Monsieur Georges Beaumaris ran towards her, waving his arms, his face glowing with excitement as he spoke rapidly in French.

  “Oui, Monsieur?” Nicolette stopped in her tracks as commanded, turning to face him. She was challenged to maintain a serene countenance. Never had she seen the director of Paris' premier opera company display anything outside of a refined composure.

  “It is most arresting!” His face was lit like the World’s Fair Palais de l'Electricité. His always neat blonde-grey hair was ruffled, and his bowtie was not straight.

  “Monsieur Beaumaris, what is it?” Nicolette giggled. She had no further incentive to contain herself once she determined he was happy rather than distraught.

  “Do you believe it, Mademoiselle?” He took her hands and began to waltz with her, his cream-colored silk trousers dashing about, creating a blur of shimmer on the maroon carpet of the Palais Garnier.

  “I most assuredly do not!” Whatsoever it may be. She laughed as she danced until Monsieur Beaumaris released her with a flourish.

  “I pinch myself, I re-read the letter, and still I do not believe it.” He waved a linen stationery before her which he pulled out of his jacket pocket.

  Could it be? Nicolette gasped as she observed a red seal waving in front of her. I mustn't let my heart betray me.

  “Please Monsieur Beaumaris, tell me,” she pleaded of the man who was known for his direct communication. She hoped Monsieur Beaumaris did not expire before he told her.

  “I tell you now.”

  “Please do.”

  “We shall be going on tour. A most illustrious tour.”

  “Where shall we be going?”

  “I must prepare our repertoire. Where is Caruso? He may very well extend his singing engagement with us before traveling to New York City to accept his position at the Metropolitan Opera. Oh, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” He turned to yell at his assistant, who was standing some six inches behind him, staring at his employer as if he were a lunatic. “A pen and paper if you will. Rapidement! I must consult with Puccini.”

  “Monsieur Beaumaris, may I beg you to tell me where we are going?” Nicolette strove to capture his attention before he floated off, trailing along beside him like a puppy too long departed from its master.

  He stopped dead in his tracks, finally giving her the attention she craved. He studied her, as if he expected her to know the answer. Slowly a smile came to his lips. “Don't you know, Mademoiselle?”

  “No I don't. And I fear I never will.”

  “But Spain, of course.”

  “Spain?" She swallowed hard. Somehow she found her voice. “But why?"

  “Why?" he laughed heartily. “A personal invitation
from the king of Spain. For the Coronation."

  Nicolette covered her hand with her mouth, afraid that she would scream.

  I should not feel this way. Why was her heart racing in her chest? She was an expert at combating nervousness and yet none of her techniques were working.

  Breathe, breathe, she told herself, but her heart just pounded faster. She was so sure it was over and she would never see him again.

  And I cannot go. She simply would not. She had only started to get her life back, to feel like herself again, to feel peace again. She was never so confused as when she had been with Alejandro.

  Alejandro.

  “Who will sing our roles if we are gone?”

  Mr. Beaumaris narrowed his eyes at her. “The next in line, naturally. As you once were. But the principles will all be in Madrid. We will not be gone more than a week or two. The principles of the opera troupe are to stay in the Palacio Real de Madrid.” Monsieur Beaumaris was grinning from ear to ear. “The personal guests of the king. Think of it, Mademoiselle Nicolette. The Royal Palace of Madrid. It is unheard of. It is a great honor.”

  “But, Monsieur Beaumaris, how…when…?”

  “The invitation comes from King Alejandro himself.” Beaumaris waved the letter in front of her face. “We will be singing in the beautiful Teatro Real, of course, a magnificent opera house, as a part of the coronation week festivities.”

  “King Alejandro wrote the letter himself? No, surely you are mistaken…The Teatro Real? Truly? Oh, it is magnificent…”

  “Oui, oui. The Teatro Real is magnificent.”

  “But I am not a principle. It will be years before I qualify as such.”

  “You are now.”

  She gasped. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Beaumaris?”

  “You—you, my angel—will sing a solo at the coronation itself!”

  “I shall sing a solo at the king of Spain's coronation?” she gasped.