Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban - Two Moon Princess

For a brief moment, Mother smiled. “Your Majesty,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “I hope your freedom will bring peace to our kingdoms. But even if releasing you today means the river turns red with blood and my people curse my name as they fall under the swords of your men, I couldn’t do differently.”

I frowned. What was she talking about? Mother had helped Don Julián—quite reluctantly in fact, if I remembered correctly—only because I had begged her to do so. Who was she trying to fool with her big words? But Mother, ignoring my puzzled stares, continued in the same tone. “When Princess Andrea brought you to the castle, Sire, I helped you only because it was my duty. But knowing you has given me hope that peace is still possible. It pains me immensely to see you leave before your life is . . . before it’s time.”

Could that be true? Did Mother really trust Don Julián? Apart from his frantic outburst when, still delirious, he had promised to avenge his father, Don Julián had not given us any reason to mistrust him. And yet . . .

To be alone with my thoughts, I moved away from the king toward the trees that flanked the path. The grass, still wet with rain, was soft under my feet, and the air had the musky smell of damp soil. As I walked, drops of water dripping from the branches ran down my face, bringing to my lips the nearly forgotten taste of freedom.

Don Julián’s words came to me as clearly as if he were standing by my side. “Doña Jimena, I am in debt to you forever. I owe you my life, my freedom, and my kingdom. And on my honor, I swear I will use all my power so you will not have to shed a single tear as a consequence of your present kindness.”

And so all is well that ends well , I thought. Don Julián will stop the war, and Father will let John go. And I had no choice but to remain in my world because I had promised Mother. But before I could dwell further on my gloomy future, Don Julián’s voice reached me again.

“Thank you for everything, Princess,” he was saying. “I have no words to express my gratitude to you. I do hope my brother knows how lucky he is.”

I turned. Don Julián, a shadow against the wall, had bent his head to kiss Margarida’s hand. And although I could not see their faces, their closeness was enough to make me sick. What my sister answered to the king’s advances I never knew, for the clatter of hooves covered her words. By the time I returned to their side, Tío was already there holding three horses by the reins, and Don Julián and Margarida had parted.

“Be careful, Princess,” Mother told me while Tío helped Don Julián to his mount. “Follow the plan and for once, do not get yourself in trouble.”

“I won’t, Mother, I promise.” With a deep curtsy to her and a hug to Margarida, I climbed on my horse and, wheeling it around, followed Tio’s toward the castle gate.

As I expected, the guards did not argue when Tío Ramiro ordered them to lower the drawbridge for us, and without delay we crossed the moat.

We galloped east, at first, to not raise suspicions. But as soon as the gateway disappeared in the darkness of the moonless night, we turned right and headed for the river. Stranded ashore on the muddy bank where I had left it, the boat awaited us. We dismounted then, and while I tethered the horses—so Margarida would find them in the morning—Tío helped Don Julián into the boat. I took off my boots and, after throwing them over the stern, entered the water—bitter cold against my ankles—and pushed the boat while Tío steered it into the stream. When the water reached my knees, I hauled myself over the stern, grabbed one of the oars, and started rowing.

It was harder than I remembered, because now the current was working against us. Even in the cool air of early dawn, my tunic was soon drenched in sweat. Things got only worse when the sun, crawling from its hiding place, hit the water with its breath of fire, and the humid heat of the summer day surrounded us like an oppressive blanket.

I was glad when, at high noon,Tío decided to stop. Hidden under the shadows of the alders and poplars that flanked the shore, we ate some bread and dried meat. Then we lay down at the bottom of the boat to rest. I wanted to take turns sleeping, but Don Julián, who had slept all morning, insisted he would watch over us. I resisted his offer. After all, he was our enemy. But Tío Ramiro, visibly upset by my remarks, ordered me to be quiet in not-so-friendly terms.

Despite my indignation at being addressed so rudely, I must have fallen asleep immediately, because the next thing I remembered was Tío calling my name. For a moment I imagined I was back in California in the little study in Tio’s house, and I smiled. But Tío did not return my smile, and soon his stern look plus the dull aches all over my body brought me back to our gruesome reality: lost between two armies intent on destroying each other.

Upstream, over the eastern horizon,Athos the golden moon was already rising. The sun will be setting soon, I thought, sitting up. But the moment I moved, my muscles burst into flames of pain, and I had to bite my lips not to scream. Yearning for the impossible luxury of a shower, I was about to jump ashore when Tío called after me. “Andrea, before you go, would you mind giving Don Julián his medicine?”

I did mind, but knowing better than to argue with Tío, I dragged myself toward the stern, and taking two pills from the leather pouch where Mother had packed them, I dropped them into Don Julián’s hand. Don Julián, undeterred by my brusque manners, smiled at me. “May I have some water, Princess?” he asked just as I turned to go.

I shook my head in disbelief. Why was he asking? The goatskins were closer to him than they were to me. And my body was so sore from rowing, that moving hurt as if needles were piercing my muscles. I was certain that right then he could not feel any worse than I did. Besides, if it had not been for him and his stupid pride, I would probably be in California, or at least riding Flecha over the meadows, not to mention that because of him Flecha was stranded in enemy country and I was stuck in this impossibly small boat. Before I could stop myself, I was yelling at him, “Why don’t you get the water yourself?”

So intense was my anger, I forgot where I was and stamped my feet against the planks, sending the boat into a frantic rocking, which threw me against the hull. By the time I crawled back to my knees, Tío was helping Don Julián to drink, their silence screaming in my mind louder than any word could. I jumped into the shallow waters and climbed ashore.

Wading into the stream, I rejoiced in the coolness of the water. But the memory of my outburst kept playing back in my mind until it became painfully obvious to me that my behavior had indeed been childish. My anger spent, I was flooded with shame. But when I returned to the boat, ready to apologize to the king,Tío was dressing Don Julián’s wound. Not wanting to interrupt, I moved to the prow. My back to them, I nibbled at some biscuits I found by the bench and bided my time.

“Andrea.”

I turned. Tío Ramiro, a finger on his lips, was pointing at the rope that bound the boat to the shore. Behind him I could see Don Julián, eyes closed, wrapped once more under a blanket. No time now for apologies. I nodded to Tío, and eager to please him, I untied the boat. Then as fast as my stiff muscles allowed, I resumed my seat and, grabbing an oar in my blistered hands, started rowing.

But Tío Ramiro did not let me forget my blunder. “Andrea, your attitude toward Don Julián is intolerable,” he said, his voice reminding me of the time long ago when I had sat for his lecture. “I thought we had reached an agreement, but obviously I was mistaken. I don’t know why you think his being at your mercy gives you the right to humiliate him. Have you forgotten that the first duty that comes with power is respect? You may be a princess by birth, but that doesn’t make you a lady. As for Don Julián, even under these demanding circumstances, he has proved again and again that he is a king, by birth and by action.”