Downstream, along the western horizon, the last rays of the sun had dyed the sky in russet and purple shades. Yet not even the perfect beauty of the evening could stop Tio’s nagging. “I don’t think you understand that Don Julián is a brilliant man, not only as a king, but as an engineer as well. In this backward world of yours, what he was doing—building the bridge—is far advanced beyond what anybody else has ever done.
“I’m ashamed of you, Andrea. I’m sick of your hate. I’m sick of your father’s stubbornness and of the barbarian ways of this world. I cannot wait to leave. But as it is, I am still here. And while I’m here, I will not tolerate your childish outbursts.”
Childish outbursts. Right. How could he dare to judge me? He and Mother and even Margarida. Why were they all so intent on telling me how to behave toward Don Julián? Couldn’t they at least remember that I was the one who had saved his life and give me credit for it?
Besides, if they really thought me so useless, why did I even bother to help them? I might as well jump into the river and disappear in the forest. That would teach them to appreciate me. I dropped the oar and seriously considered following my whim. And then, just as the boat veered to the right in response to my missed beat, a sudden burst of light—the glint of sun against metal—caught my eye. I gasped, and jerking my head back, I looked again.
“What is it, Andrea?”
“A soldier,Tío. Over there, on top of the hill.”
Tío touched my elbow. “Let’s go! He must not see us!”
Tío Ramiro was right. Although the white stripe on his blue tunic claimed the soldier as Father’s man, he was as dangerous to our mission as one of Alvar’s. My fingers tightened once more around the oar, I stroked the water and, under Tio’s lead, rowed toward the shore.
23
Into Enemy Land
“What is he doing there?” I asked Tío Ramiro as soon as the branches of the trees had hidden us from the soldier.
“He’s probably watching the bridge. From where he stands, he must have a clear view of the river beyond the upcoming bend. According to your report, that is where the bridge is.”
The fact that my father had left sentries to make sure no one crossed over the river was less surprising than the fact that we had not considered that possibility.
I sulked. “What are we going to do now?”
“Haven’t you heard anything I have been telling you? First we must wake Don Julián so he can join us in the discussion.”
To prove to my uncle how unwanted his criticism was, I bent over the sleeping king and gently shook his shoulder. With the swiftness of a wild cat, Don Julián turned and pushed himself up on his right arm.
“Sire.”
Don Julián looked up. For an indefinite moment he stared at me, his eyes dark and cold like mountain lakes, reflecting mine. Then as I was about to turn away, his pupils yielded under my gaze and he smiled.
Holding me aside,Tío kneeled by the king. “We must talk, Sire. The river is under surveillance.”
“Don Andrés’s men?”
“I’m afraid so. We just saw one up the hill, watching over the river. We cannot pass by him unnoticed.”
“I see.” Don Julián shifted his weight and rested his back against the side of the boat, his gaze lost in the distance.
“But we cannot go back,” I said over Tio’s shoulder. “We cannot cross the river farther down; it is much too wide. So we must get to the soldier and take him prisoner before he can alert Father.”
Tío Ramiro rolled his eyes, “Would that be all, Andrea?”
“It is an excellent plan, Princess,” Don Julián said, “if we knew for certain we are dealing with a solitary soldier. But as I don’t believe that is the case, and we don’t know where the others are—”
“But it is the only way. I—”
“It is out of the question,” my uncle cut in. “I have never hit a man in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”
Don Julián nodded. “As for me, Princess, I cannot fight either. Doña Jimena wouldn’t approve.”
“I will do it then,” I said, getting up. But my uncle grabbed my arm and pulled me down.
“We appreciate your offer, Princess,” Don Julián said, “but there may be another way.”
Without letting go of my arm, Tío turned to him. “Your Majesty?”
“I was wondering whether you still have the letter Doña Jimena gave to us.”
“Yes, Sire, I do. But the letter says—”
“What it says is irrelevant. We may safely assume the sentinels cannot read. You will read it to them.”
Tío Ramiro frowned. “And it will say . . .”
“That Don Andrés orders them to join him at once. Of course, you will have to improvise some story about robbers stealing your horse to explain your unexpected arrival.” Don Julián paused for a moment, and after glancing critically at Tío, he continued. “In your present condition, I don’t think you will have any problem convincing them.”
Tío laughed. “I guess you are right. I could certainly use a bath and new clothes. But at least I don’t have a hole in my shoulder.”
“Touché.” Don Julián smiled. “Do you agree then?”
“I do, Sire. I think it’s worth trying.” Then turning to me, “Andrea, do you think you can take the boat to the other shore on your own?”
“No, she can’t,” Don Julián answered for me. “The current is strong in the middle. She will need my help to steer the boat.”
“Then, Your Majesty, I cannot leave. Because if you row, Sire, your wound will open again and . . . what is the use of taking you to your men if you die before reaching them?”
Don Julián nodded. “Princess Andrea will row.”
Tío got up and bowed to the king. “It would be a great honor to see you in my world, Sire.”
“The honor will be mine,” Don Julián said. And although he was sitting, he seemed to be looming high over my uncle.
“Remember that Don Julián is hurting, Andrea,” Tío whispered in my ear as he hugged me. “So please take care of him. Let me be as proud of you as I’ve always been.”
Without waiting for my answer, he jumped overboard and disappeared through the hanging branches of the weeping willows.
After Tío Ramiro left, I had the strange impression that the boat had grown smaller or that the king had moved closer. I knew, of course, that nothing had changed. Except for the fact that now, without Tío between us, I had to deal with Don Julián directly and first of all apologize to him for my previous outburst. And I was not ready. To bide my time, I looked at the shore where the willows were still weeping under the golden light of Athos and then back to the river that touched both kingdoms. But finally, like iron is drawn to a magnet, my eyes returned to the king.
Don Julián, sitting still against the stern, was watching the shore with the deep concentration of a hound about to pounce on its prey. Except for his left arm folded at his chest and the sling under his elbow, nothing in him spoke of illness. And the doubt returned. Was he really hurting as Tío had said, or was he just being arrogant when he had asked me for water?
“Does your wound hurt, Sire?” I heard someone asking, and although I knew it had to be me, the voice was not mine.
Don Julián turned and stared at me. “Not at all, Princess,” he said. “I just like the attention.” But for a brief moment he had hesitated, and in spite of my desire to believe him, I knew he was lying.
“You must tell me the truth, Sire,” the alien voice said.