The Wall Shatters

As if trapped in a nightmare from which I couldn’t wake up, I endured the engagement ceremony, grateful to my body for remembering what to do, because my mind had forgotten what to command.

During the course of the morning, I was close to Don Alfonso on several occasions, but the rigidity of the palace protocol had prevented me from talking to him. It was not until late in the afternoon, after the ball had already started, that I managed to maneuver my way through the line of dancers and at last found myself in front of him.

Don Alfonso, looking straight into my eyes, acknowledged my presence with a polite, “Princess Andrea.” Then, as the dance started, he bowed to me.

“Where is Don Julián?” I asked him as I curtsied back. “Is he all right?”

Don Alfonso smiled. “Why do you want to know, Princess? Your plan has obviously worked. You don’t need him anymore.”

Afraid that soon the steps of the dance would take Don Alfonso away from me, I swallowed my pride and whispered, “Please, Sire.”

Don Alfonso’s smile widened. “Yes, Princess. He’s all right. But why do you ask? Are you in love with my brother?”

Without losing his smile, Don Alfonso raised his right hand and swiftly blocked the fist I had aimed at his jaw. Still holding my hand in a tight grip, he swirled me under his arm in perfect synchronization with the other couples. Then just before we parted, he pushed a folded paper up my right sleeve, and with a nod, stepped over to his next partner.

It was hot in the room, and the noise like a wave made of music–of the rhythmic tapping of feet and the humming of human voices–crashed inside my head, making me dizzy. Mumbling an excuse to the red blur who had taken Don Alfonso’s place, I stumbled away and out of the room.

When I returned to my senses, I was standing by the oak tree, my friendly childhood companion to my stolen glimpses over the adult world. But for my heavy panting, I had no recollection of having run to the garden.

My feet ankle‑deep in fallen leaves, I leaned against the old trunk and, taking deep breaths into my starved lungs, recalled Don Alfonso’s words. “Yes, Princess, he’s all right.”

I could feel my body shaking as relief poured into the empty place inside me where sorrow used to be. I closed my eyes. But his voice, his deep authoritarian voice, called me back. “Good evening, Princess.”

I opened my eyes and saw the dark figure of a man against the dappled blanket of russet leaves. Don Julián. Don Julián looking at me with his insolent eyes, as if he had never left.

My body tight like a bow under an archer’s hand, I jumped. Don Julián stared at me. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Princess.”

“You didn’t, Sir.”

Don Julián smiled. “So I see.” Bowing slightly, he took my hand to his lips. Then again he looked at me, his dark deep eyes probing mine.

I retrieved my hand his fingers were burning and moved back. “Is anything wrong, Sir?”

For an instant longer, Don Julián looked at me in that curious way that made me shiver. Then, as if a door had closed in his mind, his eyes went blank.

“As you know, Princess, tonight I will follow Lua into the New World,” he said. His voice had lost its warmth. “Before I leave, I want to thank you again for everything you did for me when I was... wounded.” He paused then and searched my face, eagerly, almost desperately as if waiting for me to speak. But at the thought of him leaving, something inside me was breaking again, and I could not think of anything to say.

Don Julián looked away, and after taking off the watch I had given to him so long ago on the river, he handed it to me. “I will not be needing your time reader anymore, Princess.” He turned to go.

“Wait, Sir, I...”

“Yes, Princess?”

Don’t go, Sir. Please don’t go, I wanted to say. But I did not know what to say to keep him from leaving. “Why didn’t you come to the ceremony?” I said instead, not because I cared, but because it was the first thing that crossed my mind.

Don Julián eyed me sternly, and for a moment I thought he was not going to answer. “I didn’t think we were ready to celebrate together, Don Andrés and I,” he finally said. “Not yet anyway. Men have died on both sides. Somebody must be blamed. So they blame it on me because I was the one who started the war.”

“Don Alfonso, on the other hand,” I said, remembering Ama Bernarda’s stories, “is being sung as a hero.”

Don Julián smiled, a brief smile that did not touch his eyes. “You are right, Princess. My brother has always been the lucky one.”

He had said that before, I knew. But when? Suddenly I remembered. “I hope my brother knows how lucky he is,” he had said to my sister Margarida when they had parted in the garden. And the doubt returned. Was Don Julián in love with Margarida as I had suspected then? Not sure whether I could handle the truth, I changed the subject. “But you got your wish, Sir. You are going to the New World.”

Don Julián smiled again, his mirthless smile. “Yes, Princess. I got my wish. And tonight I would rather... I would give anything to be my brother.”

I gasped. So I was right! I had been right all along. Don Julián was in love with Margarida. And the pain was so intense, I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying.

Don Julián did not seem to notice. He was staring blankly at a place beyond me as if he, too, were lost in pain. “He got his lady,” he said slowly, “while mine is... gone.”Again he looked at me, his eyes dark and cold like burnt diamonds, searching mine.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get your lady, Sir.”

“Sorry? You are... sorry?” he repeated, grabbing me by the arms so violently that he hurt me. I welcomed that pain, which made me forget that other one I could not name. “That’s all you can say? Sorry? I don’t want your pity, Princess. I want you to help me find her again.”

“Never!” I shouted, trying unsuccessfully to free myself. “Do you want to stop the wedding and start another war? I will never help you.”

As suddenly as he had grabbed me, Don Julián let go of my arms. “Stop the wedding? I do not want to break their engagement, Princess. Why should I? I want you to come with me.”

He wants me to go with him? He does not care for Margarida? As his words exploded in my mind with the violence of a summer fire, my mind went blank. I said nothing.

“Would you come with me, Princess?”

I wanted to go so badly that my entire body hurt. And yet... I shook my head. “No, Sir. I cannot go with you.”

Don Julián did not flinch. “So it is true,” he said. “The woman I love is gone.” Looming tall over me in his anger, he continued, “I loved her because she was different. She was independent and strong‑willed and followed her own mind. And today I only see a beautiful princess dressed in gold and painted like a doll. And as useless as one.”

“I’m not a doll!”

“Oh, but you are, Princess. Doña Jimena was right, you are indeed a comely princess now, not the spirited maiden I love.”

How did he dare insult me when it was to save his life that I had given my word never to return to the other world?

Don Julián was still talking. “When I asked your mother permission to take you with me, Doña Jimena said you wouldn’t want to leave. She said that you were a lady now and didn’t care about the New World.”

Not knowing whether to be pleased or upset, I stared at him. “Did Mother really say that?”

“Yes. I didn’t believe her then, but I do now. And I’m sorry, for you and for me. Goodbye, Princess Andrea. The sun is going down, and there is nothing left for me to do here.”

And turning his back on me, he walked away in a rustle of leaves.

My legs rooted to the ground, I remained still, looking at the place where Don Julián had been. And as his words settled in my mind, I came to realize that for the past few months I had been staring at a wall–a wall where reality had been playing itself somehow in a distorted way. But now that the wall had been shattered by Don Julián’s angry words, the false images were gone, and I could not pretend anymore. I could not pretend that I was ever going to be happy as a lady in my world. Pretend that I didn’t miss the freedom of California, the excitement of the classroom, or the spicy smell of the Coffee House. Pretend that it was the light that prevented me from sleeping every time Lua the copper moon was full.

And as the barriers I had unconsciously built around my feelings disappeared, I had to admit to myself that it had not been guilt over my failure to protect Don Julián that had made me wail in pain when I thought he might be dead, but something more disturbing. I finally understood that I cared for him in a way I had sworn to myself I would never care for anyone when I had fallen out of love with John. And still, it was different. With John I had been a willing victim. I had never wanted to love Don Julián. In fact, I had been so reluctant to do so, I had kept it a secret even from myself.

I moved my arms. Something cold–the perfect circle of my watch–was in my hand. And as I looked at the moon, now full, that from inside the glass seemed to be calling to me, the yearning to follow Don Julián was overwhelming. But it was not so simple. Don Julián is wrong, I thought with a pang of anger at the recollection of his words. I am not a useless doll. But he had been right about one thing: I had changed. I would not run away this time. I would never run away again. Resolutely I picked up the heavy train of my gown and returned to the castle.

Back in the great hall, the minstrels were still playing as they had been before I left, and the couples were still dancing, weaving intricate patterns as they swirled around each other across the floor. And no one among them seemed to have noticed the world had changed.

Keeping close to the walls, I made my way through the different groups of people talking and wandering around the Hall until I reached the eastern side. As I expected, Mother was sitting by one of the tall windows that opened into the garden. She was not alone, but talking to one of her ladies.

I knew I was not supposed to interrupt Mother under any circumstance, but if I were to make it to the arch tonight, I didn’t have time for subtleties. Twisting my skirts in my hands, I walked up to them and, after the briefest of curtsies, said boldly, “Mother, I need to talk to you.”

Mother finished her sentence. In a strained silence full of questions, she turned to her lady and nodded. And the lady was on her feet, deep in a curtsy, as Mother rose from her chair and swept past me toward the balcony.

Mother was already sitting under the trellis on the same bench where once–had it only been last spring?–Don Julián had offered a rose to my sister Rosa and promised her his eternal love. But the roses were gone now, and only the gnarled branches remained, bare of leaves, their skeletal fingers twisted around the frame waiting for the winter to come.

“Princess?”

I looked up. But the bitter taste the memories had brought to my mouth had taken my words away.

Mother returned my stare, the twinkle of a smile in her blue eyes. “Princess, is there anything I can do to thank you for rescuing me from yet another boring conversation with Lady Alicia?”

I shook my head. But then the words rushed out. “Yes, Mother. You can, you may... I mean, I want your permission to go back to California.” Mother’s eyes grew wide. “I know, Mother. I know I promised you I would never leave the castle, and yet I have to go, because... because I don’t belong here.

“I have tried so hard. All these months, I have really tried to become the princess you always wanted me to be. And for a while, I even fooled myself into believing I had. But I was wrong. I was wrong, Mother! I’m not a lady, and no matter how long I stay in the castle, I will never become one. Please. Let me go.” The last I said in a whisper.

Mother sat on the stone bench, a queen on her throne, looking at me as if she had never seen me before. And I blushed under her stare for what I hadn’t said and she could sense. When I thought my heart would explode, she closed her eyes for a moment.

“I guess Don Julián was right,” she said and smiled.

I jumped forward at the implications of her words. “Mother, did you send him to me?”

“No, Princess. I didn’t send Don Julián to you. Well, not exactly. Don Julián came to say goodbye this morning. He asked about you. I told him that the war had changed you, that you had become a lady. ‘But is she happy?’ he persisted, and I had to admit that you weren’t, that you were still distressed by your experience. So I told him you still needed time to heal. He insisted that you would never heal if you remained here, that you had to go to California. He was so adamant that when he asked my consent to talk with you, I agreed. Now I see that he was right. You do want to leave.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I...”

“I understand, Princess. You are who you are. Nobody, not even you, can change that. But I want you to remember that you are a lady, indeed. You could have run away tonight. Instead you came to me. Now Princess Andrea, if you want to go, you have my permission. But before you go, one more question, Princess. What are you going to tell Don Andrés?”

Tell Father? I had not planned to tell him anything. Father would never agree to let me go. He had warned me already he would banish me forever if I left again.

I shook my head. “I have no time, Mother. Lua will rise soon and–”

“I see. You have not changed after all,” Mother said, and her voice was hard, but there was laughter in her eyes. “I guess you give me no choice: I will have to ask him to give you his permission myself.” Pulling me to her, she hugged me tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Princess.”

“I will miss you, too, Mother,” I whispered back.

I was smiling as I rode on Flecha across the baileys toward the massive tower of the gatehouse. What was there for me to fear now? The gate was open, the drawbridge down, and the sentries, smartly dressed in blue and silver, seemed more like decorative figures than real soldiers. But when the guards saw me they came brusquely to attention, and crossing their shiny spears, they blocked my way.

“Hold it!” one of them said, his voice a hollow impersonal grunt under his helmet.

Flecha reared and neighed in anger. “Step aside,” I yelled to be heard over the loud clank of metal against stone.

The men did not move. “You cannot leave the castle on your own, Princess Andrea. King’s orders.”

“The orders have been canceled!” I insisted in my most authoritative tone.

The guards stood their ground. “I’m sorry, Princess,” the same voice said, “but you must wait here until I get the king’s confirmation.”

Wait? I could not wait! To the west, the sun was already sinking into the ocean. If I wanted to make it to the New World tonight, I had to leave now.

As if reading my mind, Flecha lunged forward, and when the soldiers jumped to one side to avoid being crushed under her hooves, she dashed through the gate.

Followed by shouts of “Alert! To arms!” we galloped away.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-31