The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  It took both hands to hold himself onto the railing. His eyes rested on the elaborate shield emblem of the Spanish Armada on the sails of the frontal mast. The Spanish flag was a constant red and yellow flash across the skies, the pillars of Hercules somehow seeming to stand still. Ornate crosses were boldly embroidered on the sails of the center mast in gold, three crosses one above the other moving in a waving motion.

  With the rising waves Alejandro felt salt water splash on his face. An instant calm fell over the entire ship. He saw that he had a mop in his hands and that he had been swabbing the deck.

  Alejandro smiled to himself: I am the lowest rank on the ship.

  That knowledge pleased him rather than saddened him. He resumed his duties. Suddenly it was calm, so quiet one could have heard the twinkle of the stars. There was a full moon. He was contented to work alone into the night.

  Amongst so much peaceful predictability, without warning, the sky opened up. The Virgin Mary floated down towards him holding out her arms to him, her white robes flowing about her. The light surrounding her filled the entire deck.

  When she reached him she took his hand and led him to a door on the ship. The light engulfed him and he felt peace and love wash over him as if he had been submerged in warm water.

  The Madonna, the Star of the Sea, opened the door and began to walk down the steps below the deck, her robe trailing behind her like a bridal train. Alejandro started to follow and she shook her head, motioning to him to stand guard at the door.

  “You do not have to go. I will do this for you. You need not feel the pain.”

  Somehow he knew what she was doing. Carrying a torch light, she went below, a radiant love emanating from her even from this distance. She found the six-year-old, the fifteen-year-old, and all of the wounded ages of his life. She laid healing hands on each, embracing them, holding them, consoling them, listening to them as long as they wished to talk, rocking them when they no longer wished to speak. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She understood. She cared. She called upon God the Father, asking for His healing.

  Alejandro could not see everything that was being done—and yet he knew he did not need to. Much of the healing was beneath the surface and without his present involvement.

  Nothing was lost, but, little by little, all was reawakened and transformed. Some feelings and memories she asked him to see; others floated to the surface and escaped to sea without visibility.

  The Mother of Mercy returned to the deck and closed the door, sealing it with light, the entrance to his deepest pain guarded and protected by God's own light, a door that now only God could open.

  In an instant the light turned to music. What had been complete quiet before, except for the soothing sound of the waves of the sea, became heavenly music in a familiar voice drifting from below and above.

  Without knowing how he had gotten there Alejandro was now the captain of the ship, steering the wheel. The mop was gone and he wore a captain's hat. The light—now interchangeable with the music—went ahead of him, leading him.

  Awaking from his dream, Alejandro looked about him, the darkness in stark contrast to his dream. He felt curiously calm.

  It seemed vividly real.

  He heard his wife breathing beside him, her head resting on his chest.

  My wife. My beautiful Queen.

  Maybe it was true. Maybe the healing was occurring without his awareness.

  And maybe God met him wherever he was. An imperfect man who had been stuck and was now free to live.

  68

  Royal Honeymoon

  “She’s all I live for!

  I simply have to see her!

  Daytime and nighttime

  I wait beneath her window.”

  - The Barber of Seville by Gioachino Rossini

  It is the greatest wedding gift I could have received.

  Luxuriating in the Palace of La Granja with extensive grounds and stunning views, Nicolette found comfort and pleasure in the exclusive attentions of her husband. She had often known Alejandro to be preoccupied with other matters while he was speaking to her, so to feel he was completely present with her was indeed all that she might have wished for.

  The newly married royal couple enjoyed an intimate four-week honeymoon at La Granja in San Idelfonso, a town in central Spain high in the Castilian Mountains. Roaming the fifteen hundred acres of gardens daily, they took boat rides and picnics, road horses, danced, enjoyed music, and had romantic star-lit dinners. In a further attempt to replace the memory of her wedding day, Alejandro arranged a private ceremony among La Granja's hanging vines and blooming flowers.

  I will forever remember La Granja as the location of my wedding and the celebration of our love.

  All of La Granja's twenty-six fountains of varying altitudes cascaded, gurgled, and splashed on the day of the ceremony. Damascus roses hanging overhead, Nicolette and Alejandro re-enacted their wedding in front of lake El Mar at the highest point of the park.

  “The Damascus rose was brought to Espána many centuries ago and cultivated in the region of Castile, where it is known as the Rose of Castile. It has enormous significance to Spaniards,” Alejandro explained when they walked in the garden some days earlier. He pointed with his eyes to the enormous roses glistening with dew only inches from their faces. He brushed the rose petals along her cheek before placing it in her hand. “Our Lady of Guadalupe, as we call the Virgin Mary, appeared to a poor Aztec Indian named Juan Diego in 1531 in Mexico.”

  “Ah, the holy mother chose a poor native to receive her message rather than the king?”

  “This surprises you, my love?” Alejandro had laughed. “The king is the servant of the people, nothing more. And yet, sometimes…” he kissed her cheek lightly.

  “Sometimes?” she smiled up at him.

  “Sometimes…God sends an angel to the king.”

  As Nicolette returned to the present, smelling the roses surround her, she did indeed feel spring had been created out of the midst of winter. She felt her soul learning to cope with the wound which had been inflicted, surrounded by scent and joy. And love.

  She wore a simple gown of white lace and carried pink roses. They repeated their vows with only their friends and loved ones present, still comprising a fairly sizeable party between Nicolette's family and Alejandro's numerous loyal friends made over the course of his life and during his school years and military career.

  It was becoming quite clear to Nicolette that anyone who had dealings with Alejandro exhibited a fierce loyalty towards him. She soon realized the king did not use his elevated status to benefit himself—far preferring to receive the same treatment as everyone else—but he did not hesitate to the aid of a friend.

  The ceremony closed with Alejandro giving Nicolette thirteen gold coins in a small purse, representing Christ and his apostles while also signifying a pledge by the groom to support his bride. As Nicolette smiled into the eyes of her husband, she knew she would love every day however long her life might be.

  “Where are you taking me, Alejandro?”

  “It is time to celebrate, dearest: food, music, dancing.” He squeezed her hand as he led her to outdoor dining situated in front of a lovely, sparkling fountain.

  “The scents are divine.” Before her was an exquisite dinner of grilled fish and Castilian lamb, Spanish tapas, chorizo sausage with pumpkin and squash, avocado tostados, olives, and her favorite bread.

  “Alejandro, what is this elaborate cake?” Situated on its own table was the most colorful and extravagant cake she had ever seen.

  “The confection is quite simple, mi cielita.” He shrugged. “It is merely a sponge cake with fruits and almonds.”

  “Even a piñata!” Suddenly alarm shook her. “Who is that strange man attempting to hit the piñata? He isn't even blindfolded and he can't manage it. Is he inebriated?”

  “Oh, no,” chuckled Alejandro. “He is not drunk. Despite his illustrious military ancestry, he has no aim. That is le Comte de Saint-Cyr.�
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  “He looks ridiculous swinging while dressed like a peacock. Why is he doing that?”

  “He likes candy.” Alejandro shrugged. “Never fear. Valentinois will make short work of it for him. Unless that young senorita headed towards them manages to distract le Duc.”

  “I find it difficult to believe the Duke of Valentinois would rather swing at a piñata than attend to the gorgeous senorita who is lifting her ruffled skirt just enough to reveal a lovely ankle as she walks.”

  “Believe it, my love. Perhaps if she were wearing hunting attire she might be able to capture Valentinois' attention.”

  Sangria flowed as easily as the twenty-six fountains. Fireworks illuminated the now glowing palace against the night sky while the party dined amidst much laughter, music, and dancing.

  “I have dreamed of this happiness for you ever since knowing you as a small boy,” Esteban took Alejandro's face in his hands and kissed both cheeks, an action no one else would have dared.

  “My heart has been reborn, my friend.”

  “I can see that quite readily,” replied Alejandro’s mentor.

  Nicolette smiled to see Esteban, still limping but otherwise looking well. Most of the men present wore simple dinner jackets and bow ties in the style of King Edward VII, but Esteban added to that a pink silk vest, his charms, and a pink bow-tie. Still, he could not compete with the jeweled Saint-Cyr, who was glittering to the extent he was some competition for the fireworks.

  “It is positively magical here, Nicolette,” Lady Elaina sighed, leaning against her husband.

  “You are happy, Nicolette,” Lady Ravensdale was seated next to her daughter.

  “Very,” Nicolette smiled. “My life has become vastly more expanded than I might have wished, but that is part of being married to Alejandro…Tell me, mother. Did you see the tragedy coming?”

  Lady Ravensdale nodded sadly. “I did.”

  “But you said nothing.”

  “Would it have made it any easier?”

  “No…possibly more difficult.”

  “It was something you had to traverse in your own way.”

  “And you have,” added Dr. Stanton. “Admirably.”

  “But, Mama,” argued Nicolette, “we might have prevented…if we had known…possibly someone might have been saved.”

  “I wish that were so, Nicolette. I only had a vague foreboding. I did not know when or where. And I knew your path would not be deterred. Possibly if I had said something you wouldn’t have leaned towards Alejandro in such a relaxed fashion, an action which saved your life.” She shuddered. “On other occasions I have managed to save lives, but not as often as I might like. I do wish for it. Perhaps someday.”

  “For now, we are all simply so happy all our family is well,” Lady Elaina stated, “And that you and Alejandro have each other.”

  Nicolette hugged her mother, giggling as she caught a view of her brother with frosting on his nose. “Lance, you are almost nine and look at you!”

  “It is good to be married to the king.” Lance grinned sheepishly, licking his lips. “Letty, he has so many cooks!”

  “And they never stop feeding you,” remarked Nicolette.

  “It is fortunate there is so much activity to be had here at La Granja.” Lord Ravensdale raised his eyebrows, but there was unconcealed affection in his expression, as he took his daughter's hand and squeezed it.

  “The palace is at your disposal, Lord Ravensdale,” Alejandro smiled.

  “Would you care for a fencing lesson tomorrow, Senor Lance?” Esteban asked.

  “Would I!” Lance's eyes grew wide, his adoring eyes resting on Esteban. “Yes…uh, yes sir!”

  “Esteban shall be teaching our first born to fence before he is out of the cradle, I have no doubt.” Alejandro laughed.

  “I see the same,” murmured Lady Ravensdale.

  “I will teach your children, but I will no longer live in the palace with you, my king,” Esteban remarked, his expression melancholy. “We have been together a long time, and now you are grown.”

  “Not live with us in the palace?” Alejandro was visibly alarmed. “But I still need you, my friend. Now more than ever.”

  “We will see each other. But it is time for me to make my own life now that you have yours.”

  “Of course,” Alejandro swallowed hard. “I can never thank you enough for all you have meant to me.”

  Esteban laughed. “I hope I shall continue to mean something to you.”

  “What shall you do now, Esteban?” Nicolette asked.

  “It has long been my dream to form a school for impoverished boys in Madrid.”

  “You will have my full support,” Alejandro replied softly.

  “And…” Esteban smiled broadly. “I will marry.”

  “Marry?” Alejandro’s surprise was evident.

  “You look at me as if I am immune from affairs of the heart,” Esteban laughed softly. “I assure you I am not.”

  “Who is this woman whom God has smiled upon, Esteban?” Nicolette watched him attentively.

  “I have not met her.” Esteban tossed his headful of black curls, laughing. He smiled in the direction of the gorgeous flamenco dancer wearing a flaming red silk dress with the plunging neckline. “But I shall enjoy finding her. And I will find her.”

  “Ladies of Madrid have a care,” Nicolette murmured.

  Most smiled but Nicolette saw the sadness etched into Alejandro's expression.

  “Esteban has forfeited his life for long enough. It is time,” Alejandro acknowledged.

  “I have no doubt Esteban and his new wife will be frequent guests at the palace.”

  “You said you saw our child, Lady Ravensdale?” Alejandro forced himself to refocus his attention.

  “I do. She will be an excellent fencer.”

  “She?” Alejandro chuckled.

  “What else can you tell us about her?” asked Nicolette, leaning forward.

  “She will be much like Lord Ravensdale: a warrior's spirit with a heart for justice.” A slow smile came to Lady Ravensdale's lips as her eyes rested on her husband.

  “A warrior?” asked Alejandro, alarmed. “Our little girl?”

  “Yes.” Lady Ravensdale replied softly. Nicolette could see there might be challenging times ahead. She forced herself not to think about that. Life was not meant to be a relaxing vacation. Which was all the more reason to enjoy herself while it was.

  “Ah, and here is the beautiful bride!”

  “Enrico! How are you?”

  “Bellissimo.” Caruso kissed his fingertips. “As are you, Signora Nicolette. Or, should I say, your highness?”

  “Never among friends. And do you look forward to your engagement at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, Enrico?”

  “Ah. Naples—my own Italy—scorned me. As long as I can sing I will be happy.”

  “As long as you breathe, you will be happy, Enrico. And Ada. Where is she? Is she excited to see New York?”

  “She prefers to stay at the villa I bought her in Florence with my first advance.”

  “Ada is not going with you to New York, Enrico?” Nicolette asked in disbelief.

  “A month ago in Italy,” Caruso continued while shaking his head, “I told her how she had fallen below the expectations I had formed of her and bade her begone.”

  “So you are no longer together?” asked Alejandro.

  “Together? I love her and I have the money she wants. We are still together.”

  “Ada will visit you in New York?”

  “She has aspirations. I will see her.” Caruso smiled, handing the king a tablet. “King Alejandro, I have brought a wedding gift for you.”

  “Ah, a caricature of the Queen and myself. Delightful.”

  “Enrico, this is hilarious!” Nicolette could not help herself. She was almost in a fit of laughter, most unbecoming to a Queen she was sure. “Did you draw it?”

  “Of course. Who else? I have hundreds of these.”

&nb
sp; “Hundreds?” Alejandro gulped.

  “Not hundreds of you and Signora Nicolette, but of everyone I know.”

  “How fortunate we can count you among our friends, Senor Caruso.” Alejandro managed to catch his breath again. “And what do you do with these drawings may I ask?”

  “Do? What does anyone do with art? One feels it, one lives it, one—”

  “—Let me be more precise then. Shall you be submitting these masterpieces to the newspapers?”

  “Newspapers? You insult me. They do not deserve my work!”

  “I agree entirely,” the king emphasized.

  “Senor Caruso,” Esteban added gently, “As a boy, Alejandro had some painful and damaging experiences with caricatures being placed in the newspapers. Especially given recent events, we cannot be too careful.”

  “It was a singular event enacted by madmen,” exclaimed Enrico. “Spain’s king and queen have never been more popular. For all else, you must learn to laugh back, King Alejandro. Who is bothering you? Shall I do a caricature of him for you?”

  “Tempting…” considered the king.

  “You must make a joke of all tormentors,” advised Caruso. “Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry, and you cry alone. And—life is to be lived.”

  “Excellent advice, Senor Caruso.”

  “I must have one for my opera box,” Saint-Cyr interjected, bursting onto the scene waving his lavender-gloved hand.

  “One what?” asked Alejandro.

  “One of those…candy…things!” explained Saint-Cyr indignantly.

  “A piñata?” exclaimed Nicolette with equal indignity. “In the Palais Garnier? One of the most beautiful opera houses in the world?”

  “You will be thrown out of the Palais Garnier, Saint-Cyr.” Alejandro chuckled. “Possibly out of Paris.”

  “They cannot. My grandfather was one of Napoleon's guards.”

  “Tsk. Tsk.” Le Duc Valentinois shook his head. “Piñatas are quite out of fashion in opera houses, these days, Saint-Cyr.”

  “You jest,” accused Saint-Cyr, tapping his finger on his cheek, the topaz on his gold pinky-ring throwing streaks of glitter.