By the middle of the river, the water was up to my knees. Why didn’t I take swimming lessons when I had the chance in California? I wondered as I tried to keep a fretting Flecha from fleeing.
“Easy, Flecha! Easy! We are almost there,” I said aloud to calm my fears.
Flecha plunged ahead until, dripping wet in water and sweat, we climbed the muddy bank of the Suavian kingdom.
Wild with relief, I bent forward and patted her neck. “We did it, Flecha, we did it.”
I was still talking when, out of nowhere, the soldiers came.
15
The King
They appeared so suddenly that for a moment I thought the trees themselves had become alive and were aiming their branches at me. Breathing in my fear, I pulled at the reins, while Flecha snorted and frantically pranced at the air with her front legs.
My arms around her neck, I threw my weight forward, fighting to remain in the saddle. For a moment, Flecha stood still. Then she shook her head and, with a wild snort, sprang forward; her hair, wet from the crossing, slid between my fingers like silk. With a heavy splash, I fell backward into the river.
When I emerged dripping wet from the waters and crawled ashore, the soldiers were still there, and Flecha was gone.
Their arrows ready, the men moved closer. They were dressed in black with a golden sun, the emblem of Alvar, emblazoned on the front of their tunics. My quest was almost over, I realized with a shiver. These were Don Julián’s men.
Setting my feet firmly on the muddy bank, I pushed my hair away from my eyes and stared at them. “I am Princess Andrea de Montemaior. I order you to take me to your king.”
Without a word, two of the men advanced toward me. While one of them yanked my arms behind my back, the other reached for my face. I kicked and punched and screamed for help, but it was no use. Soon my hands were tied and my mouth and eyes covered in foul-smelling rags. Iron fingers gripped my arms and pushed me forward, up the steep slope. I could no longer see.
After a short discussion carried in hushed tones, I was ordered to walk. The firm grip of a hand on my arm gave me no choice. In total darkness, I stumbled forward. I walked thus for a long time through what seemed to be woods, as invisible briars scratched my arms and legs. Later, ages later, from somewhere above our heads, a voice called “Halt!” Someone from our group shouted a word, the password I assumed, and we trudged on.
Soon the smell of bonfires and roasting meat and the sound of harsh voices and roaring laughter surrounded me. Certain that we had reached the enemy camp and that soon I would see Don Julián, my heart swelled with hope. But not for long. After a quick exchange between my captors and a new voice, I was thrown to the ground, my ankles forced together and bound. Then coarse fingers pulled away the rags that covered my eyes and mouth. While I blinked, blinded by the sudden light, I heard heavy footsteps retreating. When my eyes finally adapted and I looked around, I was alone inside a tent. By the soft light that entered through the thick canvas, I realized it was early evening. A dark shape holding a spear stood motionless in front of the opening.
I dragged myself to the middle post and propped myself against it. My head was throbbing, and my body hurt and itched all over. For the first time ever, I wished I were in my own room back in my father’s castle. My wonderful plan seemed too foolish now to even consider. And yet it would have worked, I was sure, if only I would have reached Don Julián. Why hadn’t these stupid soldiers taken me to him?
As my eyes swept over my torn clothes and leather boots caked in mud, the obvious answer snapped to my mind. They had not believed me. I couldn’t blame them, really. I didn’t look anything like a princess. And there was nothing I could do about that now that Flecha had run away with my spare clothes, including my best gown I had planned to wear to impress the king.
At the thought of my mare lost in a foreign land, I moaned. How was she going to find her way back? Flecha needed me. I couldn’t just give up. I had to get out.
I wiggled my hands, trying to unbind them. The rope bit hard into my wrists bringing tears to my eyes. If only I had a knife. But of course the soldiers had seized it when they had captured me by the river. At least I still had the pouch on my belt with my beautiful watch inside. The soldiers, probably thinking the pouch too small to hide a weapon, had not bothered to take it from me. I considered myself lucky; had they found the watch, they would have thought me a witch and killed me on the spot. Well, the watch was not going to help me now. What I needed was something sharp. Suddenly I remembered my arrow.
I could use it to cut the rope. But hard as I tried, I couldn‘t reach it. My back against the pole, I slid to the ground. Maybe it is better this way, I told myself. Even if I managed to leave the camp unnoticed, where would I go without a mount? Besides, I had come to talk with Don Julián, and I hadn’t yet done so.
So I waited and waited, but except for a soldier carrying a bowl of stew, nobody came. Without a word he left the food on the floor and, after untying my hands, watched me as I ate. Much later, someone threw a blanket at me. Then the night fell.
I woke up at the sound of hooves. “At ease!” A deep authoritarian voice said and then added sharply, “Does she know?” After a short answer I couldn’t hear, the newcomer continued. “We cannot take any risks. She has to stay now. Bring her to me!”
Hurried footsteps approached my tent, and a soldier came in. After cutting the rope that bound my ankles, he dragged me to my feet and ordered me out. Shivering in the cold air, I stumbled on my uncertain legs along a line of tents covered in dew until we reached a bigger one with the king’s standard above. Upon saluting the guards who flanked the entrance, the soldier lifted the door flap and pushed me inside.
“Kneel!” he ordered.
My head raised in defiance, I stepped forward. “I am Princess Andrea de Montemaior. I will kneel to no one,” I said to the shadows inside.
The rasping sound of a quill against paper that came from the back of the tent stopped brusquely, and silence froze around me like a living presence.
I blinked repeatedly until the shapes coalesced into forms. Looking through my squinting eyes, I saw a man dressed in black sitting behind a trestle table covered with books and papers. His dark face was tense and sharp as if chiseled in stone, and deep creases ran along his forehead. He didn’t look at all like the gentle lover I remembered staring longingly into Rosa’s eyes. And yet despite his plain soldier clothes and his disheveled hair, there was such arrogance in the way he was looking at me that even before he spoke, I knew without a doubt he was the king.
His eyes two burning points of fire aimed at mine, Don Julián rose from his chair. As if following an order I had not heard, the soldier by my side got up and left. The king moved around the table and came toward me.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he said, his voice sharp and cold as a naked blade. “You have two minutes to convince me you are worth my time.”
His tone was not the soft pleading one I remembered from when he was making love to my sister, but cold and unfriendly. A voice you obey. It took all my will to resist the urge to comply.
“I have already told you. I am Princess Andrea of the House of Montemaior. I have come to you as a messenger. Unless you treat me with the respect I deserve, I refuse to talk.”
Don Julián stared at me with his dark impenetrable eyes. Then he unsheathed his sword and, with a swift movement of his arm, cut the rope that tied my hands.
“You may proceed now, Princess,” he said with a quick bow, his voice so cold and unyielding that I shivered.
Fighting the desire to rub my wrists, as I did not want to give him the satisfaction of showing weakness, I searched my mind for the speech I had so carefully prepared for the occasion. But Don Julián was staring at me so openly, so shamelessly, that suddenly I became painfully aware of my appearance. Aware that in my page outfit, now dirty and wrinkled after three nights of sleeping in it, not to mention my recent fall in the river, I looked anything but royal.