Carmen Ferreiro-Esteban - Two Moon Princess

Father, the scar on his right cheek clearly visible above his gray beard, was closing in on us. But this time, although he was as imposing a figure as ever, I was not scared of him. Nothing he could do to me now could be worse than the pain I was already feeling.

Father started right in on me as soon as John left, “I don’t need to tell you that your challenging my authority in front of my men is an unforgettable act of insubordination. Were you one of them, I would have no choice but to sentence you to death today. Just be glad I didn’t allow you to become a squire when you asked me to. As it is, you will return to Doña Jimena and remain with her until you marry. And any further attempt to leave the castle, and you will be held as a prisoner. Have I made myself clear, Princess?”

“Yes, Father.”

Keeping my eyes on the grass so he could not see my total indifference, I curtsied to him.

“Come now, Princess. And don’t forget that until we get to the castle you will be under my direct supervision.”

I nodded. Not daring to steal a last glance toward the opening, I followed Father into the woods where the troops were waiting. Soon we were on our way.

Even in my sulking mood, I could not help but notice that the men were happy. A feeling of relief and excitement was in the air, in the way the knights and soldiers carried their arms and in the open way they laughed and addressed each other. Their happiness set me apart. The fact that I knew most of them by name did not make things any easier.

In front of me, Father was chattering with John. I knew John could not possibly follow his explanations—his Spanish could not have improved that much in the time I had been gone. But Father did not seem to mind.

“Don Julián’s resignation is indeed good news for our kingdom,” Father was saying. “What I don’t understand is why Don Alfonso was so adamant about Don Julián being allowed to go to your world. Don Julián is not going anywhere if you ask me. The truth is, I was reluctant to give my consent. I even insisted on talking to him to get from his own lips the promise that he would abide by the treaty. But after I saw him, I did not argue anymore. Why bother? I doubt if he’ll make it through the night.”

His words hurt so much I could barely walk. But I swallowed my pain and kept my pace with them, while Father continued, “If he dies, I’m not going to grieve for him. You cannot imagine what a nightmare he has been for us all these years. Don Alfonso, on the other hand, is a gentleman. No problem there if we ever have to go to war again. Although I don’t think we will. With Princess Margarida as his queen, we shall have a good grip on Suavia.

“By the way, Princess Andrea,” he said, turning to me, “Do you think Princess Margarida will be upset about this marriage?” Father laughed. “Actually I wouldn’t blame her if she would be. But she has no choice. She shall comply.”

He laughed again, and his laughter became one with the sound of the water rushing through the ragged rocks I could see upstream, breaking the surface of the river with their sharp teeth.

Ahead of us the terrain rose into a steep slope of imposing boulders, and the trail veered right away from the river, winding itself around the mountain. A black line of Suavian soldiers came down the path carrying tents and supplies. I learned then that Don Alfonso had decided to camp by the river for the night. The contrast between the cheerfulness of our men and the serious faces of the Suavian soldiers was striking and did nothing to calm my fears.

We had just resumed our climbing when the dark clouds that had been gathering all afternoon finally broke, and the rain poured over us, turning the path to mud and slowing our advance. Aware that every step was taking me farther from Don Julián, my heart sank deeper and deeper into despair. I could not understand myself. My plan had worked, the war was over, and John was safe and willing to go back to California. And there I was, mourning for a man who only the week before had sentenced me to death. Victory, I discovered that day, can taste like tears.

A small party of men was waiting for us at the ford. A man I recognized as Don García was coming toward us. He was wearing the white stripe of our kingdom across his brown tunic, which meant that Father had accepted him back into his service after his timely attack on the bridge.

With the wide swing of one more used to riding than walking, my sister Sabela’s forbidden Captain darted through the heather-covered field that flanked the river and kneeled to Father. After a brief exchange between them, Father swung upon a horse, crossed the distance to the river, and entered the ford, with John close behind.

As the men dispersed around me to grab their mounts, Don García reappeared by my side, a horse in tow. With a bow, he offered me his free hand the way a courtier does to a lady. I took the horse because I had no choice, but his hand I ignored. I did not want anything from him. After all, it was his men who had wounded Don Julián at the bridge, he being the one who had given the orders for the attack. Already on the horse’s back, I dug my heels into its flanks and headed for the river.

I had not been riding long when Don García caught up with me. Although it had stopped raining a while ago, my clothes were still damp and I was shivering. Without a word, Don García took off his cloak and offered it to me. Again I refused his offer.

“I don’t blame you for being angry at us, Princess,” he said, rewrapping his cloak around his shoulders. “To break the truce in a misplaced attempt at rescuing you was indeed a foolish act in which I had no part. In fact, from the beginning I was against Don Andrés’s idea of following Don Alfonso.”

I reined my horse in. “Following Don Alfonso?”

“Yes, Princess,” Don García said and, wheeling around, faced me. “This morning when the scouts came to tell us that Don Alfonso was leaving the camp with some of his men, Don Andrés suspected a trap and decided to follow him. I opposed his plan. I told him I trusted Don Julián completely. You see, Don Julián and I have known each other for many years. We trained together when we were children. I knew he would never break his word, but Don Andrés insisted and well, you know the rest. But believe me, I’m really glad the war is over.”

Spurring his horse, he rode ahead, leaving me shaking and cold with no one to blame.

For the rest of the journey I rode alone, my thoughts swirling in my mind like autumn leaves in a gale. When we reached the encampment, Don García came over and led me to a small tent by the King’s pavilion.

“I will bring you dry clothes and some food so you don’t have to eat with us,” he said as I stumbled inside. “I gather you would rather be alone.”

He bowed to me after I thanked him. “Actually, Princess, it is I who must thank you. Your brave gesture has ended the war and made it possible for me to return to Montemaior.”

“Are you coming back, Sir?”

“Yes, Princess. Don Andrés has decided to name Princess Sabela as his heiress and has agreed to our marriage.”

It was only as I congratulated him that I realized I was really glad his exile was over. Don García had shown more concern and understanding for me these last few hours than either John or Father had during the entire ordeal.

Don García nodded. “By the way, Princess, there is something I don’t understand. If Don Julián’s men were escorting you to us, why didn’t they provide you with clean clothes?”

I stared at him, my cheeks burning. But Don García only smiled and, without waiting for my answer, bowed to me and left.

Later, after I had changed into dry clothes and forced myself to eat, I lay down on the cot and tried to sleep. But as soon as I closed my eyes, the cold despair I had been fighting all day came back, tearing me apart.