Tío grabbed my arms. “Have you ever considered that Don Julián may have his reasons?”
“I don’t care about his reasons. I’ve seen his actions. And as far as I am concerned, he’s guilty.”
Tio’s grip on my arms tightened. “Andrea, please stop yelling and listen for a second.” His face almost touching mine, he whispered, “Your father killed Don Julián’s father. He stabbed him through the heart as Don Julián watched.”
By the time I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the floor. Tío Ramiro was throwing water at my face.
21
In the Castle
“Easy, Andrea, easy,” Tío Ramiro was saying, while around me the room continued to spin.
“What happened?”
His hands firm on mine, Tío helped me to sit up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so brusque.”
“Brusque?”
Tío kneeled by my side and stared deep into my eyes. “About your father.”
At his words, the fog lifted from my mind and I remembered. “Tell me it isn’t true, Tío, what you said before about Father.”
“Yes, Andrea. It is true.”
I reached forward and, grabbing his arm, pulled myself up. “But it was in battle,” I said, fighting the nausea crawling inside me. “It was in battle, so he had to . . . do it.”
Tío shook his head. “No. It was not in battle.” Again the room started spinning.
I felt the pressure of his arms under mine and heard his voice, merely a whisper in my head. “Come sit by the window. I will tell you how it happened.”
Too distraught to argue, I let Tío help me to the window seat. Keeping my head down on my knees, I closed my eyes as the familiar voice with the foreign inflection of a distant world told the story Don Julián had tried to keep from me.
“Eight years ago, your kingdom and Don Julián’s were on the verge of war over the lands of the upper river. To avoid the confrontation, Don Luis, Don Julián’s father, challenged Don Andrés to hand-to-hand combat to decide to whom the lands should belong. Your father agreed.
“It was a long and even match, but finally your father lost his balance and fell on his back. Immediately Don Luis’s blade was on his chest. For an indefinite time, they eyed each other in silence. Then Don Luis jerked his arm, and after briefly marking your father’s cheek with his sword, he moved away, pardoning your father’s life. But your father, blood dripping down his face, jumped to his feet and challenged Don Luis once more. Before Don Luis could do anything to protect himself, your father thrust his sword through his enemy’s heart.
“From the circle of knights, Don Julián rushed to his father. By the time he reached him, Don Luis was already dead. Don Julián closed his father’s eyes and laid him on the ground. Then taking the sword from the king’s hands, he challenged Don Andrés to the death.”
I looked up. Tío Ramiro was standing by the window, his eyes lost in the distance. “Tío?”
Tío Ramiro turned and stared at me with his pale blue eyes, the eyes of my mother and Kelsey, the eyes of my sister Rosa. “Yes?” he said, and I shivered because the anger was gone from his eyes, the truth of the story written in them. “But Tío, how can you be so sure that was the way it happened?”
Tío smiled, a sad smile that died on his lips before reaching his eyes. “Because I was there, Andrea. I was the arbitrator, the one who refused Don Julián his revenge. I ruled that the challenge had already been fulfilled and granted your father the lands in dispute. It was a difficult decision. A decision that has haunted me all these years. But in good conscience I could not have done otherwise, because although Don Julián was right, I couldn’t let him fight.”
“Why?”
“Because it would not have been a fair match. Don Julián was only twelve years old.”
“That’s why he attacked our kingdom and took the lands back five years ago,” I whispered when I found my voice.
Tío nodded. “Exactly.” Holding my head in his hands, he forced me to look into his eyes. “There has been enough blood between your Houses already, Andrea. The hate must stop.” Dropping his arms, he walked away.
I stayed still, thinking of nothing and of everything, overwhelmed by feelings I could not understand. On the floor, concentric circles around the knots in the wood, like the open wings of butterflies, were looking at me as if asking my permission to fly. When I looked up again,Tío Ramiro was gone.
Dragging my feet on the boards, I went back to the king’s room. Don Julián, his eyes closed, lay against the pillows. Glad I didn’t have to talk with him, I approached his bed. But my relief soon turned to concern when I noticed how irregular his breathing was. I didn’t have to touch him to know that, once more, he was burning with fever.
I stared at him for a moment, wishing for Mother to come. But it was still morning, and Mother was busy attending to her duties and would not be back until evening. I shrugged. Mother had taught me what to do.
I took a deep breath and walked to the table. Soon I was back by the bed with clean linens and a basin full of water. Tossing one of them into the basin, I twisted it until no more water dripped through my fingers and raised it to his forehead. But the moment I touched him, Don Julián opened his eyes and, pushing my hands away, pulled himself up. Looking through me with an empty stare, he whispered in a harsh hollow voice, “Father, I will avenge you, I promise,” before falling back against the pillows.
I dropped the linen and jumped to my feet in such haste, I bumped against the basin and splashed water all over my skirts. Ignoring the water, I ran to the door. I had to talk to Tío Ramiro before he left the castle. I had to warn him that Don Julián had lied to us, that his heart was set on revenge. My hand already on the knob, I stopped. As soon as I opened that door, all chance of peace would be lost. Was I ready to give everything up? But, I argued in my mind, if I let Don Julián go, he would surely kill Father. Hesitant, I looked back. Don Julián was shaking so badly now, his bed was moving. How could I be certain under these circumstances that his words had not been the product of his fever?
Don Julián was talking again. But this time his babbling made no sense. Suddenly he called my name. As if under a spell, I let go of the knob and walked back to him. Clearly visible on his face, the marks my fingers had left were turning purple. I blushed at the memory of my outburst, and bending down, I picked up the towel and held it to his face. Shaking his head from side to side, Don Julián tried to push me away with his right hand. He was surprisingly strong in his delirium and to hold him still required all my energy. Finally, after an exhausting struggle, his muscles relaxed and he stopped fighting.
For hours I remained by his side, helping him fight the fever while memories of the past days flashed through my mind. I remembered the light of wonder in his eyes as he played with my watch. I remembered the pull of his hand as he helped me to the plank in the river and the weight of his body on mine when he was hit by the arrow. And with the memories, my hate for him grew thinner in my heart.
Later in the evening, when his fever broke and his breathing became more regular, I left the king’s side and walked to the window. Out there, somewhere beyond the castle walls, Tío Ramiro was already riding to meet with Father. It was too late to stop him now. But it did not matter anymore, as my mind was made up. Whatever the consequences of my decision, I would not turn Don Julián over to Father. So that night when Mother came, I told her only about the fever.
“The fever should have been gone by now,” Mother said. “But of course, Don Julián should have rested today instead of playing war games.”
“I am sorry, Mother.”
“Sorry does not change anything, Princess. From now on, he is going to rest whether he wants to or not.” And after forcing a couple of red pills into his mouth, she made me promise to do the same every time he regained consciousness.