by Allen, Jewel
“What have you been doing all these years?”
“I am the Captain of the Guards.”
“Thirsting for the grand adventure.” Julio spat on the ground. “So you got to do what you wanted.”
Why did all his achievements suddenly mean nothing? “Yes.”
“I knew there was something familiar with your limp. As far as I’m concerned, you can go back to your grand life. My brother is dead.”
Raúl stared. “You don’t mean that.”
Julio’s lip curled. “You cannot just expect to return and for everything to be the same as it was when you left. You are a stranger in my eyes. And you can remain as such.”
“But --”
Julio walked away.
Julio mounted his horse and galloped away, each thud of hooves driving a searing pain into Raúl’s chest. He lowered his head and roughly dug the toe of his boot in the soft, loamy bank. He stood there for a long time, like an old decrepit tree, his arms and limbs turned in to themselves, shaking.
Finally, he straightened up. He gazed at the greenish surface of the lake, the trees, a distant mountain, fallow fields, and rows upon rows of orchard trees.
Maybe he never belonged here to begin with.
He dragged himself to the water’s edge. Splashing his face, he rinsed off any remaining plaster. He looked at his reflection and felt empty all of a sudden. Once he carved that new life in Madrid, he had sworn off his old life. Today, had he really hoped to take it back?
What a pathetic fool he was.
61
Weeks passed, bringing with it warmer weather and pretty blossoms in the gardens of Madrid. As Raúl left the barracks one lovely evening, he noticed the flowers, remembering his mother’s fondness for them with a little pang of sorrow.
He took a deep breath and flagged a carriage down. With his sad mood, it was good for him to get out. He was finally making good on his promise to watch Conchita’s play.
Conchita. Just the thought of her and their stolen kisses made Raúl feel lighter on his feet. Tonight, he would get his fill of her, first in the play, then at the after-ball. He got in a hired vehicle and gave directions to the Teatro del Principe.
A man lit a repaired lamp post, just one of a few along the Avenida. The simple act bode well for the rest of the city, where light shone in pockets.
A rowdy crowd already filled the Teatro del Principe. Under the open roof, on the reserved bleachers and standing up in the patio or pit, soldiers jostled each other, trying to outdo their neighbor’s tall tales. At intervals, lit torches illuminated the lively scene. Women watched from the balconies reserved for their fairer sex.
Mario waved and met Raúl with a vigorous handshake. As Raúl pulled back his hand, something crumbly stayed on it.
“Sorry,” Mario said. “Empanada. It’s delicious. Want one?”
“No, thank you,” Raúl said.
The noise level in the corral rose. The play was about to start.
“What are we watching?” Raúl asked Mario.
“A new play that Conchita said was just finished today.”
“Sounds like quality.”
“If it’s not, Conchita will save it.”
Gabriel de Guerra strode onto the stage, wearing a yellow flower on the lapel of his oversized violet coat. “Welcome to the Teatro del Principe,” he said. “I wish to commend my cast tonight. We’ve had to deal with much uncertainty lately, and still they kept on doing what they do best. Enjoy the show!” With flourish, Gabriel swept off stage. The curtains rose.
“At least he has the sense to just get off as quickly as he could,” Raúl observed.
“Oh, but he’s the lead actor,” Mario said. “That’s not the last you’ll see of him.”
And it was true. Gabriel de Guerra strode onto the stage as Prince Nicolas, who is bored with ruling his kingdom.
He can have any woman he wants, but he wants to be loved for himself and not just his title. His friends challenge Nicolas to pretend to be a peasant and make the first woman he sees fall in love with him.
Conchita, as the peasant girl Rosalinda, stepped onto the stage in a white dress and red apron, gathering firewood from a beach. Nicolas watches her from behind a little rise along the water, and sets his sights on her.
Funny, eloquent, and handsome Nicolas charms Rosalinda. She resists at first, but then eventually, she succumbs to his charms.
They kissed.
Raúl clenched his fists.
Rosalinda discovers Prince Nicolas’ true identity and rebukes him for the injustices his officials have been doing on his behalf. A contrite Prince Nicolas begs for her forgiveness at a ball and they kiss again.
When Conchita took her final bow, a half-dozen bouquets landed at her feet. She ignored all of them. Instead, she raised her dark eyes to the patio and looked straight at Raúl.
He forced himself to smile, even as jealousy ate at him. This was her moment of triumph. “And she knew I was going to be here.”
Mario nodded. “Yes, why?”
Raúl ignored Mario’s question and left the pit, jealousy roiling inside him.
62
Outside the theater, Raúl leaned against a pillar. He didn’t know what to think, what to say to Conchita. He just knew he was so angry, he couldn’t go to her in that state.
Had she been making love to Gabriel de Guerra the entire time that Raúl had been declaring himself to her?
The theater door opened. Conchita stood there regarding him, her silver gown billowing around her. Beautiful, like a cold-hearted winter queen.
“Mario told me you were out here,” she said. “Why didn’t you come back stage with him?”
“I didn’t want to get in the way.”
She smoothed her skirt, her voice casual. “I waited for you.”
“Sorry, I should have sent word through Mario. Congratulations on a fine performance.”
She was silent, then: “You’re mad at me.”
“I suppose you can say that.”
“About the kiss?”
“What else?”
“I thought maybe you didn’t like the message of the play.”
“The message? It was just a story.”
“There was a message, but never mind. If you didn’t see it, then I probably can’t explain it to you.”
He clenched his jaw. “You kissed him twice.”
“I told Gabriel I didn’t want to do it. Or we could just imply that we kissed. I’ve seen plays before where the love interests hide behind a sheet and they just show their silhouettes. He hinted that he could just ask someone else to take on the role.”
“The snake!”
She shrugged. “It was just a kiss.”
“You looked like you enjoyed it.”
“Raúl! Really.” She glared. “I’m going to walk away. Right now. This is an absurd conversation.”
“Then why don’t you?”
She blinked, took two steps backwards, then went in. By the time he raised his hand to call her name, she had gone inside.
Raúl’s shoulders slumped and he raked his fingers through his hair. The theater door opened again. He lifted his eyes expectantly, but it was only Mario.
“Raúl! Come on in. The after-ball has started.”
“I’d really rather not.”
Mario came up and clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s going on between you and Conchita?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Well, I’m no dunce. Are you jealous of that Gabriel?”
“No,” Raúl lied.
“No,” Mario mimicked. “Come on in. There are plenty of beautiful women here who are dying to partner with you.”
Raúl only wanted one particular woman. “No, thanks.”
“Well then at least keep me company.” Mario came over and bodily pushed Raúl into the building.
“Stop,” Raúl said, shrugging Mario’s hands off. “I can walk.”
The theater pit was a madhouse. P
eople stood on benches, in the balconies, in the pit. Someone opened some side doors and crowds spilled out into the dark evening.
Conchita stood two pillars away, talking to none other than Gabriel. She glanced at him, then turned so her body no longer faced his direction.
Raúl quailed, as though slapped, then looked over the crowd. A bevy of girls with a duena stared at him and giggled behind their fans. He asked one, then another, and soon, he had danced with the entire contingent.
After the last dance, he found himself facing Conchita, with just an arm’s length between them.
“Captain,” she said, curtseying.
He bowed over her hand. “Señorita Benavente.”
She straightened up and raised her eyes to him, defiant.
Mario appeared at Raúl’s side. “This is your cue. Ask her to dance.”
“She doesn’t look like she wants me to,” Raúl whispered back.
Mario elbowed him.
“Would you like to dance?” Raúl asked Conchita.
Tight-lipped, she glanced from Mario to Raúl. “All right.”
Her rose perfume engulfed his senses as she let him lead her in a promenade before they followed the movements of the Noble Dance. When the dance was over, he stood breathless for several seconds, the rest of the room falling away.
“Thank you,” she said formally, breaking the spell.
Raúl led her back to the side of the room. Neither spoke for several moments. He glanced up. The cloth over the courtyard opened to reveal the stars. He said, “Lucky for your performance, no rain tonight.”
She raised her lovely profile to the sky. “Yes, it was.”
It was so crowded, a couple nearly barreled into them. The dancers hemmed them in.
“Would you like to take a turn outside in the gardens?” he asked.
She gave him a wary look. “Did Mario needle you to do that, too?”
He gritted his teeth, frustrated, but only said, “No.”
She took his arm and he led her through the throng. After the crush of the crowd, outside almost felt cold and impersonal, no longer intimate.
But it was a lovely night. The stars shimmered like millions of diamonds. The trees, coming out of spring, looked silver-gray.
She stumbled, emitting a cry of pain. “Ay, caramba!”
“Are you all right?” he asked, leading her to a bench.
“I think I twisted my ankle.”
He examined it. “Does it hurt when I press it like so?”
“A little.”
“This?”
Her voice shook. “No.”
“Good.” He stayed kneeling, then raised his eyes slowly to hers. Her face was so close to his. To his surprise, she burst into tears.
“What is it, mi amor?” he asked.
“Frankly, you’ve been a brute.” She sobbed. “And now, you’re so tender.”
He brushed away her tears. “Forgive me, Conchita. I have been a brute.”
She nodded, then braved a smile. “And you were right about the kisses.”
“I know I have to share you with the theater.”
“Regardless, know that my heart is yours.”
When they kissed, she was pliant in his arms, delicious. Afterwards, he took her hands in his. “Marry me.”
She stared. “Marry?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know, Raúl -- “
He kissed her. “Marry me.”
“You impossible man.” Half-laughing and half-crying, she whispered, “Yes. Yes!”
63
Some 80 kilometers north of Madrid, in La Granja’s receiving chambers, Raúl surveyed some of the most well-known statesmen in all of Spain who made up the Council of Castile: the dukes of Arcos, Bejar, Escalma, Friás, Infantado, Medina de Rio Seco, Medina Sidonia, and Najera; the Count Lemos and the Marquis de Astorga. The rest were bishops and other prominent citizens. Everyone congregated here to meet with the king, who was still staying at Aranjuez.
Count Bautista and the Marquis de Esquilache were conspicuously absent. The court tried and sentenced Count Bautista for treason, while the king sent the Marquis de Esquilache to Venice, as ambassador.
While waiting for the king’s arrival, Raúl indulged in a delicious daydream – of Conchita saying yes to his marriage proposal.
A familiar commotion heralded the king’s arrival. Guards flung the doors open, through which at least a half dozen monstrous hounds entered, attempting to greet the visitors with their tongues. The Marquis de Astorga backed up with a frightened expression, his wine spilling. The black-speckled hounds swarmed around his feet, licking in a frenzy.
The king entered the chambers still dressed in his full hunting regalia. Immediately, everyone took off their hats, and bowed.
“Cubríos,” King Carlos said, and the men put their hats back on. “Marquis, that will teach you to not imbibe before dinner.”
The Marquis of Astorga lifted his glass and laughed good-naturedly. “My wife objects as well.”
“Ah,” the king said. “That the Queen Amalia were still here to scold me.”
When the king eventually smiled, everyone breathed easy again. He motioned for everyone to gather round a long table, the hounds at his feet.
“Before anything else,” the king said, “can I please have Captain Calderón come forward?”
Surprised, Raúl felt everyone’s stare as he made his way to the king.
The king smiled. “I must admit that news of your latest exploit had me chuckling. Getting a mutinous admiral and a count’s surrender with a dinner knife. Bravo!”
Raúl smiled. “I am glad my actions please His Majesty.”
“’Please’ hardly characterizes it. I am most impressed, most impressed. This warrants applause from everyone.”
Everyone applauded. Except for Leandro, sitting a few rows back with a bland expression.
“Why do you not clap?” the king asked him.
“Pardon me, Your Highness,” Leandro said, clapping.
“Lieutenant Aguilar often suffers from a bad case of indigestion,” Count Saldana said.
Leandro pounded his chest. “So true, Your Highness.” He coughed for good measure.
Despite their long-time antagonistic relationship, Raúl had to smile, especially when the king said, “And now, are you catching a cough, too?” He turned to the rest of the group. “Well, enough of that. We have serious matters to decide on.”
The king petted a hound, then raised his hand to his chin, in a thoughtful posture. “How is the military junta, Count Saldana?”
“It is going well, Your Highness. Order is back in the capital. Slowly but surely, citizens are coming to their senses. There are skirmishes, here and there, but otherwise, people are going about their normal lives.”
“And what did you decide to do, if any, about the hat and cape ban?”
“We mandated that it be the hangman’s uniform from here on. That changed people’s minds about it quickly. No one wants to look like the hangman.”
“Brilliant.” King Carlos’ eyes flashed with amusement. “I wish everything else in the kingdom were as easy to resolve. Like the Jesuits.”
Raúl’s interest perked up.
“We give the Jesuits far too much credit,” Count Saldana continued. “We must look to our French and Portuguese neighbors. They have already expelled the Jesuits from their midst. If you draw them close, they will be as snakes to your bosom, your Majesty.”
Raúl shook his head. Father Zamora, a snake? That was a laughable thought. He felt Count Saldana’s eyes on him.
“I have evidence that they are actively thwarting your will, Your Highness,” Count Saldana continued. “They gave fiery speeches to incite the riots. Their messenger was a priest, if you may remember.” The count’s glance flickered towards Raúl. “A friend of the masses...and the Captain of the Guards.”
“Whom are you referring to?” the king asked.
“If I am not mistaken, he is referrin
g to Father Zamora,” Raúl said, no longer able to stay silent. “Not only a man of cloth, but of integrity.”
“That’s right,” the king recalled. “You knew him quite well.”
Raúl nodded. “He is like a father figure to me, Your Highness.”
“I know him, too,” Leandro said. “I am not so nostalgic as Captain Calderón. We come from the same small town of Cheverra. You cannot hide too many secrets from a small town. Before he came to Cheverra, Father Zamora fled the colony of the Philippines.”
Raúl’s hackles rose. “I wouldn’t say any more, Lieutenant Aguilar. Not one more word.”
“Why not?” Leandro jutted his chin out. “They need to know that he murdered a man, and can do it again!”
“That is a lie!” Raúl half-rose in his seat. “A baseless, horrible lie!”
“That’s what I thought, too. But I have it on good authority it’s true.”
“Did you ever consider asking him?” Raúl countered.
“What, so he could lie?”
“Gentlemen,” Count Saldana said. “We are getting away from the discussion at hand.” His eyes glittered with impatience. “Though I find that little bit of information interesting. This Father Zamora is just one of many problem clergy. The entire Jesuit Society has been a threat to your authority.”
Raúl wanted to say something in defense of the Jesuits and especially his friend, but the moment passed.
“I agree,” the king said. “What do you propose we do about them?”
Count Saldana leaned forward. “First, we must arrest the top dissidents. Then we must expel the entire order from Spain and its territories.”
64
The resulting furor echoed in the room. One of the Jesuit bishops, Bishop Alvarez, drew himself up and spoke. “Your Highness, I know you have had some concerns about our Order, but I can assure you we support your rule and only want the best for you.”
King Carlos inclined his head and nodded. “I do believe that before we expel an entire religious order, we need more concrete proof, Count Saldana.”
Count Saldana smiled, as though he were being agreeable. “I will have more proof, Your Highness. Already, one of our officers has been helping me.” He looked at Leandro, who smiled.
