The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  The first volunteers held the other side of the cape opposite the matador, some losing their nerve and releasing their side when the bull got near. They had been instructed not to run, but one man took off like a flash of lightning. All seemed relieved when their short display came to a close.

  “So shall we call a truce, Nicolette?” she heard Alejandro ask her, almost in a whisper.

  “You went to great pains to bring me here, Alejandro.” She stared straight ahead. “Why? So I might worship you from afar? So we might discuss the respective merits of British and Spanish sporting events?”

  “So we might share some time together, Nicolette.” He turned her face towards him and looked into her eyes. She was glad she was sitting instead of standing. “It is not enough, I know that too. Shall we throw it all away because it isn't perfect?”

  “Perfect? We are like two islands in different oceans.”

  “I shouldn't have brought you here, it was selfish of me, but I couldn't help myself.” He looked away. “I still can't.”

  “Alejandro.” She kept her eyes downcast in order to get through it. “It isn’t about making love. I can live without that. It is about breaking barriers, connecting. The containment of your passion is symbolic of everything you are holding back from me. You go into an obsessive circular mental breakdown every time we are together, espousing your duty. Whatever it takes to break that pattern, I would love to see. I want you to completely show yourself to me. To trust me. To be with me. I want you. And, when we return to our separate lives, I want to hold that memory dear and forever carrying something of you with me.”

  No response. Nicolette glanced at his face; even turned from her, she saw nothing there. He was like a stone.

  It is pointless. Conversation had done absolutely nothing to advance his comprehension, just as her advances had done nothing. She had shown him her heart. In return, she was a mere contrivance in his mind, not a living, breathing woman.

  Alejandro’s deep brown eyes were so bloody inviting. Once again he was drawing her in only to reject her.

  It is inevitable.

  “Would anyone else like to try?” Rafael offered loudly, smiling and twirling his cape. “Our next bull is ideal for the novice: he keeps his eyes on the cape.”

  “I will taste everything life has to offer with or without you, my love.” She rose from her seat. “You cannot both direct everything and live, Alejandro.”

  I am finished with words. She wished Alejandro might join her, but she could not force him.

  Nicolette stood too quickly, feeling the effect of the wine slightly. “Excuse me a moment, your majesty. I need to adjust my toilette.” She dismissed him as she moved towards the ring

  I am able to walk, she reassured herself. She was merely slightly light-headed.

  And I feel invincible.

  Alejandro stood abruptly, appearing stunned. In an instant he realized her intention, almost disbelieving his eyes. In her outer field of vision she could see him running towards the ring. He reached the gate just as she was entering the ring.

  “Nicolette, please, I beg you not to attempt this.” She knew bearing his private thoughts had cost him.

  It is good for him. But not good enough for her.

  “I shall leave you to your discussions, your majesty,” she replied sweetly as she curtseyed. She proceeded into the holding area. There was some visible discomfort and murmuring as everyone could readily see his royal highness did not wish her to go.

  Rafael looked at the king and then at her, attempting to dissuade her. She grabbed one side of the cape. He maintained his grip on the other side of the cape, smiling at her resolve. “I shall help you, Senorita Nicolette.”

  “No, Senor Ortega. I wish to do it alone.” She shook her head, feeling both confident and defiant. She pulled the flashy pink and yellow capote from his fingers. “I have been watching closely and I comprehend how it is done.”

  Nicolette swung the cape back and forth as she had seen Rafael do. There was applause from the crowd, and Rafael gave her an approving nod. She was satisfied that she was imitating the master passably well.

  “Very good, Senorita.”

  How difficult can it be? It is all a dance of movement. Rafael said this particular young bull followed the cape. Moreover, she was quite skilled at knowing where everyone was in relation to her on the stage.

  This is merely a different stage. Nicolette turned with smug confidence towards the opening where the bull would be released.

  52

  Finito. Say Goodbye.

  “What’s done

  Cannot be undone”

  - The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini

  Holy Mother of God! Nicolette opened her mouth wide as she gasped in terror.

  This was no young bull, but the son of a maniacal killer.

  What in heaven’s name have I done?

  His horns might not be as long as a full grown bull's but they were perfectly capable of putting a period to her life! The gigantic black beast charged into the ring, snorting as he stormed past her former seat on the side of the ring.

  Where I wish I was now.

  As he blew through his nose and paw-ed the ground, charging invisible foes at will, she suddenly felt very sober indeed.

  Move! Move! You must move foolish girl!

  Nicolette was frozen where she stood. Everything she had believed about her courage and ability was suddenly brought into question.

  I cannot even save myself! Nicolette felt her heart racing as the bull circled the empty arena looking for something to kill, charging at full speed.

  And then he spotted her.

  Nicolette had longed all her life to be visible. And now she longed with all her heart to be invisible.

  Oh, no. Just when she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, in an instant everything turned for the worse: she was the focal point of the bull’s world. He had one—and only one—object: to pulverize her. Before or after he had killed her, it made no difference to him.

  If there was anything left of her confidence, it dissolved in that moment.

  I am no longer on the stage with predictable players. As she saw the steam streaming from the monster’s nostrils, there was no doubt in her mind the young bull was equal in fearlessness and savagery to his older counterparts.

  What was I thinking? Those “small” horns were coming straight for her attached to fifteen hundred pounds of muscle and hooves. Lowering his head, Diablo charged at her, running at full speed and snorting, his horns aimed for her body.

  Get out of here NOW! her brain roared at the same time she knew she was at the point of no return.

  The speed with which the bull was covering the distance between them shocked her: though the bulls had seemed fast from the stands, it was somehow even swifter when the horns were aimed at her.

  My only chance—though still not impressive—is to face and divert the creature. I will surely die if I turn my back on him. She might be the stupidest girl on the earth, there could be no doubt about that now, but she knew this. Diablo could run much faster than she could, particularly since she was unable to move.

  Nicolette called on all the discipline and focus known to her and lifted the cape, then lowered it, for the classic first pass. The bull collided with the cape, shooting waves of pink satin into the air.

  I am still alive. The crowd cheered and she was still breathing so it appeared her execution had been satisfactory, though quite accidental.

  Unexpectedly, the bull spun around quickly and expertly.

  Young bull my foot! He is the master! She was surprised when he came at her again from a forty-five degree angle to his first lunge.

  Fortunately, despite her lack of positioning, he missed her body when he stormed through the pink cape, tossing his sharp horns.

  In an instant, Nicolette experienced the unprecedented thrill of the matador. She knew the euphoria of the stage, but this was an altogether different and sensational experienc
e. Facing a deadly foe—an animal that would surely kill her if given the opportunity—and holding her ground, not fainting or freezing, imparted a strong sense of her own power.

  Attuned to the crowd as always, she heard the conspicuous sounds of approval coming from the stands. Trained to always face the audience, without thinking she involuntarily looked up for a brief second.

  That was an unforgivable error in judgment. This venue was even less forgiving of a single mistake than her singing career, critics aside.

  In that split second, the bull, already close, spun around and raced straight for her. In another three seconds she would have been positioned for his advance, but life and death scenarios were often a matter of a few seconds, and she had come up short.

  “No! No! God, No!” she heard Alejandro yell. She had not fully executed her movement when the bull collided with her cape. He tossed both the cape and her.

  She flew into the air like a pillow from her childhood pillow fights.

  Only her bones weren't made of feathers. She hit the ground like a thunderbolt, shocked at the impact.

  But that was the least of her worries.

  I am still in the arena with the bull.

  53

  A World Without You

  “Oh, if only I had the right

  I’d be the most watchful

  Guardian

  Of your dear life”

  - La traviata by Giuseppe Verdi

  “No, God, NO!”

  Terror filled Alejandro’s being. It engulfed him, he felt himself swimming in the fear.

  Padre neustro, let me save her, I don’t care what happens to me. Please dear God!

  “Stop, your majesty!”

  Alejandro was unprotected, and those who raced to stop him he threw out of his path.

  He jumped the fence amidst protests. Once he reached Nicolette, he scooped her up in his arms even as the bull was stampeding towards them. With no arms free, he ran clutching her as others jumped into the bullring attempting to distract the bull.

  Reaching the side of the ring, his heart racing, Alejandro barreled through the gate which was being held open for him.

  Somehow he carried her from the bullring. He didn’t look back but knew he owed his life—and hers—to those who had jumped into the ring.

  “Get the doctor! NOW!”

  Please let her live. Finally seated, he held Nicolette in his lap, oblivious to everything around him, only partially aware of the screams and flying dust. Keeping his gaze fixed upon her, he still managed to see the bull being herded to the corral in his peripheral vision.

  “Open your eyes, Nicolette, open them!” he commanded, frantic.

  And then she gasped. He felt himself releasing the air from his lungs. Every breath she took rejuvenated and revitalized his body as if it were his breath.

  I love her. Only her. As he watched Nicolette, he suddenly knew the truth.

  She must live. She has to.

  “Marry me,” he heard himself murmuring. “I can no longer be in a world without you.”

  It is all true. This was what he wanted, and he now knew it thoroughly and completely.

  He wanted to live his life with this woman more than he wanted anything in the world. He didn’t want to live without her.

  She would not awaken. He began to panic.

  Possibly she would be gone in a few minutes. Possibly these are the last moments we will spend together.

  “Open your eyes, Nicolette, open them,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, my love.”

  Am I entitled to happiness? Am I entitled to joy? Is it too selfish? Alejandro could not answer those questions. But he did know in acknowledging his love, he was acknowledging himself.

  He was experiencing his own existence.

  I live. His love for her had created his life.

  Alejandro kissed her forehead and saw her smile slightly, her lips quivering. He silently prayed, ‘Holy Mother, please let her live. Enable me to both share my life with this woman and to rule Spain. I have only once before asked for the desire of my heart, which was denied. Now I am begging. Allow me this one thing.’

  He made the sign of the cross over Nicolette and kissed his fingers to his lips. ‘Let her live. Let me live.’

  Nicolette opened her eyes and looked into his, and he was overcome with relief and joy. She closed her eyes again, but he somehow knew she would live.

  Praise God.

  54

  Mi Vida. My Life.

  “Day and night

  it is you I adore.”

  - The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini

  Semiconscious, Nicolette heard shouts and commands and felt someone pulling her to the side of the ring almost from the instant she hit the ground.

  Someone else must have distracted the bull. Through the haze, she had a vague impression of total confusion, flying sand, men shouting and running, colors flashing everywhere, and—worst of all—snorting and pounding hooves, a sound she never hoped to hear again.

  She might very well have gotten her wish. Her muscles tensed and she desperately tried to move, but nothing happened.

  “Stay still!” she heard in a commanding voice as she was being pulled somewhere. Her head started to pound and she closed her eyes as all these impressions faded.

  “There is nothing left to prove to me, mi vida. Live, I beg you. Please live.”

  Mi vida. My life. She left her eyes closed, startled to hear these words from Alejandro's lips, the unmistakable sound of his muttering to himself.

  The king of Spain himself must have jumped into the ring and pulled her to the side of the arena. It was Alejandro's hand tightly wrapped around her arm.

  Look what all my silly games and foolish antics have done: I might have killed Spain’s ruler, forever altering the course of history.

  I might have killed myself. She swallowed hard.

  What a selfish, silly girl I am. She felt a pang of guilt as the repercussions of her actions struck her. Yes, she was a woman, and, yes, she only desired love, but how many might have been hurt in her quest?

  And still she could not talk, her head throbbing. Is this the end?

  Nicolette suddenly felt a tingling all over her body and a calm washed over her. She saw a light in the darkness, even though her eyes were closed.

  “I can no longer be in a world without you mi vida.” There was an unknown quality to his tone, steely and resolute. In her last moments of consciousness she heard Alejandro's voice again. “Marry me.”

  Marry Me. The words reverberated in her mind. Where am I? Am I still alive? She felt herself floating.

  Clearly his thoughts had not been intended for her to hear.

  He will not feel the same when he is not so shaken. Even in her half-conscious state she was under no delusion about that.

  Still, his words nonetheless revealed that his feelings for her were deeper than she had imagined in her wildest dreams—or possibly than he had even imagined himself.

  “Open your eyes, Nicolette, open them!” he commanded, his voice frantic. “Stay with me, my love!”

  Alejandro. He is quite dismayed. I cannot bear to see him suffering like this. He has had so much loss in his life already.

  She surprised herself, she did not think of her operatic career in that moment. Possibly the only waking moment when she had not since her eighth birthday.

  The calmness ceased and Nicolette felt herself shaking, as if she had fallen through a tunnel. Through sheer force of will she opened her eyes.

  He placed both hands around her face and she thought she had never seen him look so joyful, tears forming in his eyes.

  Nicolette felt herself smiling as she drifted off to her own dreams.

  55

  Day and Night

  “I have nothing

  To offer a maiden

  All I can measure

  To add to my treasure

  Is my heart’s devotion

  With fond love’s emotion.

&n
bsp; Ah, could ever a lover do more?

  Day and night it is you I adore.”

  - The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini

  “Ohhhhhhh,” she moaned. “My head…it…hurts.” Nicolette awoke in the king's private carriage, her head throbbing, with her only companion an unapproachable sovereign ruler. His eyes remained glued to her, his expression unreadable.

  She had no idea what he was thinking, but that was nothing new. No doubt he had come to his senses and completely forgotten his earlier words.

  Or feared she had heard them.

  The sovereign ruler wasn't exactly withdrawn as he watched her every move, but neither was he communicative.

  That suits me fine. Nicolette had no desire for conversation as every inch of her was pulsating with pain.

  She was lying on one side of the royal carriage while Alejandro sat across from her. The entire carriage was lined in red velvet, a color she did not wish to see at this time. Her blouse had been loosened and the lace removed. She had no idea where her cameo was, and she did not care. Her feet were propped and her boots removed. A cold rag rested on her forehead and a light blanket covered her.

  She felt his anger emanating towards her which made a fire in her soul, giving her the strength she needed to keep fighting.

  Who are you to feel angry? I am the one who almost lost my life. I am the one who was thrown about by a bull.

  “By some miracle you have escaped your ill-advised encounter with the bull with only a bruised body and a throbbing head,” Alejandro remarked, his face expressionless. “My doctor found no broken bones and very little blood was lost.”

  “I am delighted the royal doctor is pleased with my condition. Would that I could change places with him.”

  Alejandro laughed. “Not likely, since he would not be so foolish as you.”