Solimar, page 12
“No, no, nothing like that.” Berto held his arm out to the side and whistled.
Lázaro swooped down and landed on his hand.
Campeón’s eyes widened. “Lázaro! Where is she?”
Berto nodded toward the side of the road.
Solimar stepped from the bushes and pulled off the knit cap.
“Soli!” Campeón leaped to her, hugging her tight. “How? What are you doing here? Wait. Why are you dressed like that?”
She pulled him into their hiding spot behind the trees and bushes, where Zarita waited, poised on a log.
“Hi. I’m Zarita.” She patted the spot next to her. “Sit down.”
Campeón hesitated and looked at Berto.
“There’s no time to get used to her,” said Berto. “Trust us. She’s a friend.”
“Just listen,” said Solimar. “I’ll explain everything.”
Campeón warily lowered himself next to a grinning Zarita.
Solimar recounted everything that had happened and what was at stake. Campeón’s emotions echoed her own: the surprise about the magic, the anguish about their mother and grandmother and the hostages, the frustration and anger at King Aveno’s plans to capture him and Father and Solimar, and the quiet resolve and determination to put their heads together to come up with a plan.
Campeón drew a map of the encampment and the surrounding areas in the dirt, pointing out key places and the route to the secret meeting. “We will need help. I’m going to the captain of La Quinta. She is fair and respected. If she could spare some sailors for a few days, Father would be indebted to her. I think this captain would welcome having a king in her good graces. Then I’ll sneak back into the encampment to brief Father.”
Solimar repeated everyone’s roles. “Campeón, reinforcements. Berto, scouting. Lázaro and Zarita, diversionary tactics. And I will oversee and try to avoid being spotted until it’s my time.”
“It’s a worthy strategy!” said Zarita.
“If it works, yes,” said Solimar. “If not, we have lost everything.”
As the sun yawned and stretched, Berto and Solimar waited within the dense forest halfway up the hill above the royal encampment.
From there, they could see the comings and goings of the San Gregorians, and with the binoculars, they had a good view of the main aisle of the marketplace, which already buzzed with vendors and customers.
“Your brother did the honorable thing by staying,” said Berto.
Solimar didn’t answer but gave a slight nod. She hadn’t wanted to ruin Campeón’s dream but was so grateful that he didn’t hesitate to help.
“I like Prince Campeón,” whispered Zarita. “He wasn’t alarmed by me much.”
“He liked you, too,” said Solimar, blinking back tears. “He’s a good brother. I suppose it will be better this way.”
“It will be,” said Berto. “And he’ll have another chance. You’ll see.”
“Maybe,” said Solimar, knowing that her father would never allow him to leave San Gregorio.
Berto pointed toward the camp. “It’s time.”
King Sebastián emerged from a tent and put on his riding gloves. He looked up at the sky as if appraising the weather.
A stable hand led Saturno to him.
Solimar wanted so much to call out and run to her father and feel the safety of his arms and hear him tell her that everything would be all right. She blew out a long frustrated breath.
“I know. It’s hard to be patient,” said Zarita. “Just a little longer…”
King Sebastián swung into his saddle and rode from the encampment and down the road. He was almost out of sight when four of Aveno’s guards appeared on horseback and trotted after him.
“Right on schedule,” said Berto. “They’ll stay far enough behind so they won’t be seen, until they reach a secluded spot. Then they’ll surround and capture the king, with the intention of escorting him back to San Gregorio. On horseback and without the caravan, it will only take a few days.”
“Now we have to deal with the remaining guards and spies here, or they will soon follow,” said Solimar.
“And the less of them, the better,” said Berto. “Plus, there’s still a reward on your head.”
Solimar called for Lázaro, who flew down from a nearby branch to her shoulder and began chattering.
“He wants to confirm that we’re going for confusion and chaos. Right?” asked Zarita.
“Right,” said Solimar. She pointed to the top of the hill. “And when you’re finished, I will wait for you on the ridge.” With Zarita’s ribbons, she fashioned a halter around Lázaro by crisscrossing them around his chest and back.
“Perfect,” said Zarita, tucking herself inside. “Like a baby in a sling. Thank goodness I’m light as a feather.”
“Remember, choose your moment wisely,” said Berto.
“Don’t worry,” said Zarita. “I’ll startle the socks off them. A little creepy chanting, then the mention of a horrible curse. I got this!”
“We’ll be watching your performances,” said Berto, waving the binoculars.
Lázaro bowed and flew across the royal encampment, hovering in front of the guards, who were still sitting at a table pretending to play cards.
One of the guards jumped up. “That’s the bird that belongs to Solimar, King Sebastián’s daughter!”
“Are you sure?” asked the other.
“There’s the silver band with the royal crest on its leg!”
“It’s carrying…a doll!”
“It must be the girl’s. She can’t be far away.”
“Follow that bird!”
Lázaro screeched and flew into the marketplace.
The guards yelled for help and chased after Lázaro. More guards joined them, in uniforms and in plain clothes. Lázaro hopped from tent pole to tent pole, then made a dive for a fruit stall.
Berto laughed and passed the binoculars to Solimar.
The woman in the fruit stall screamed and waved a towel as Lázaro leaped from bowl to bowl, eating tidbits of freshly cut fruit.
Guards overran the stall. One flung himself across a table, reaching for Lázaro. It collapsed under him, sending the fruit sliding into a messy stew.
Lázaro flew to the panadería stall next, landing on a cart of sweet rolls stacked in a beautiful tower. He tugged one from the bottom, and they all tumbled to the ground. The baker yelled and ran at him with a broom.
When Lázaro stopped at the far end of the aisle, calmly pecking at the pastry, a dozen guards surrounded him.
He flew up and over them, landing only a few feet away. He looked at them and chirped, took a few steps, stopped, and looked back at them again.
One of the guards held out his arms, blocking the others from running forward. He looked in the direction Lázaro was headed, and pointed.
Lázaro strutted away from the marketplace, stopping every few feet to look at the pack of expectant guards who were cautiously tiptoeing after him.
“Good job, Lázaro,” whispered Solimar. “He’s leading them to the road. And when they’re far enough away, Zarita will slip out of the sling and become animated, but not in a good way.”
“Don’t you wish you could see their faces when she makes her announcement?” said Berto. “Just to be clear, she can’t really do what she’s going to threaten, right?”
Solimar giggled. “You mean tell them if they continue to search for me and pledge loyalty to King Aveno, that she’ll cast a spell on them so that their food will forevermore be infested with beetles and worms? No. But Lázaro will very discreetly drop a few beetles and worms in places that will guarantee they believe her.”
A voice called out, “Solimar!”
She spun around to see a stable hand walking toward them, trailing two horses. He wore an oversize straw hat and held the reins of two saddled horses.
For a moment, Solimar froze. Then she ran to him and flung herself into his arms. “Father!”
He hugged her, rocking her back and forth, then held her at arm’s length. “Solimar, if everything I’ve heard this morning is true, you have been very brave.”
He looked at Berto, smiling. “And you must be the other hero in this endeavor to save our kingdom.”
“Father, this is Berto,” said Solimar.
Berto stood a little taller. “Rigoberto Ayala Bernal, from Valle Granada.”
The king handed Berto the reins to one of the horses. “I owe you a great debt.”
“Thank you, King Sebastián. It was, and is, my honor.”
“And Arturo?” asked Solimar.
“He insisted on being the one to switch places with me and pose as king.” He chuckled. “Thank goodness we have a similar stature. In my clothes and on my horse, he easily fooled the guards. It was a smart idea.”
“Campeón thought of it,” said Solimar. “Now Arturo, who they think is you, can be captured for the time being. And you can go to your meeting.”
Her father sighed. “Campeón. I must admit that when he told me he had planned to leave us, I was devastated. And after what I’ve learned in the last few hours, I’m grateful he made the wise and responsible decision to stay. I am proud of you both. And according to the plan, I have spread the gossip that the prince has joined the crew of La Quinta and gone to sea. And I have acted appropriately surprised and disappointed.” He put an arm around Solimar’s shoulder, smoothing the rebozo. “Is this what carries the magic that King Aveno wants to harness?”
Solimar nodded.
“How have you managed to be so courageous?”
Solimar shrugged. “I gave myself permission.”
He laughed. “Well, we will need a little more of that bravery before this is all said and done. But remember, Solimar, we’re still in danger, especially you, and there is no guarantee this plan will work.”
“I know, Father. But we have to try. For the sacred firs, and the butterflies, and for San Gregorio.”
He smiled. “Truer words were never spoken. Now, I need to attend the not-so-secret meeting and hopefully form an alliance. You and Berto should head out. Campeón, the captain of La Quinta, and the crew are waiting on horseback at the edge of town. Do you know the spot?”
“Campeón gave us directions,” said Solimar.
Father put a hand on her shoulder. “Tonight, Campeón’s band will overtake the four guards who have captured Arturo-posed-as-me. I don’t want you or Berto in the fray. Stay well back. Understood?”
Solimar nodded. “Understood. We will wait for you in the forest.”
“With any luck, I will meet up with you tomorrow. And I’ll bring any San Gregorians I can spare from the marketplace. Until then…” He kissed her on the forehead.
Solimar and Berto climbed into the saddles and rode away toward the top of the hill. On the ridge, they stopped.
Puerto Rivera sprawled below.
Berto lifted the binoculars, then handed them to Solimar. “Follow the harbor road to a cluster of trees on the right.”
Solimar peered through the lenses until she found Campeón and a crew of sailors, waiting on horseback. “I see them.”
“I’ll ride a minute ahead of you, in case any of Aveno’s guards are still about,” said Berto.
Solimar nodded. “I’ll wait for Lázaro and Zarita. They should be back soon, then I’ll follow.”
When Berto was far enough away, she emerged from the shade of the forest. A long trail of butterflies flew above her. Several spiraled down, fluttering around Solimar. She opened the rebozo. The fabric pulsed, calling forth the ancient songs. A flutter of butterflies emerged from the rebozo, circling and darting in joyous flight, then finally swooping away with the others.
She lifted the rebozo in front of her, studying it.
Only one blink of shimmer remained.
While she waited for Lázaro and Zarita, Solimar hugged the rebozo to her chest.
Could she protect it until she reached the castle? And even so, would it have the strength to survive the ordeal ahead?
Three days later in San Gregorio, Solimar sat on a horse in the courtyard in front of the castle.
An early morning drizzle dampened the blanket that had been draped like a cape around her. She slumped forward, her hands bound with rope to the saddle horn. Lázaro perched on her shoulder and Zarita burrowed in a pocket.
Berto was on the horse next to her, his hands tied in the same way.
Four uniformed riders, wearing King Aveno’s colors surrounded them.
“Berto, no matter what happens, I want to say I’m sorry for all the trouble,” said Solimar. “And how things turned out.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. I chose to come.”
“You could have refused to take me downriver.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “It was all worth it, just for the chance we might save our homelands.”
“I will never forget your sacrifice,” said Solimar.
“Me either,” whispered Zarita from her pocket.
From Solimar’s shoulder, Lázaro peeped.
Berto raised his chin toward the castle. “I wish I could say I can fix that, but…”
Shouts rang out from the tower.
“We’ve been spotted,” said Berto. “No turning back.”
Solimar murmured, “No turning back.”
From inside the castle, a tramping of boots echoed as an entourage of guards rushed out to meet them. In the plaza, they stood in a formation—two rigid lines, creating an aisle that reached almost to Solimar and Berto.
King Aveno appeared between the ranks and sauntered forward until he stood in front of them.
“Where are King Sebastián and the prince?” he demanded.
“We have not yet seen the king or the guards who captured him,” said the rider next to Berto. “And we heard a rumor that the prince joined the crew of the ship La Quinta, which sailed this morning.”
King Aveno smiled. “Even better if it is true. The kingdom is now more vulnerable. And no matter about King Sebastián. Soon enough, Solimar will tell me everything I want to know about her father.”
He snapped his fingers.
A guard from the formation stepped forward.
“Take the river boy,” he ordered, “and put him with the other hostages.”
The guard took the reins of Berto’s horse and led it away.
King Aveno pointed to the rider next to Solimar. “Help her down.” He nodded to the others. “Then off to the stables, all of you. Tend to the horses.”
“Right away, sir!”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Yes, sir!”
One of them quickly slid from his saddle and untied Solimar’s hands so she could dismount.
As the riders departed, King Aveno turned to Solimar. “We need to talk.” He flipped his hands toward the gray sky. “But the weather this morning isn’t very conducive to the conversation I want to have.” He grinned. “Luckily, sun is predicted this afternoon. So we will have a little event with everyone in attendance. And you and I will be the stars of the show.”
“I’d like to see my mother,” said Solimar.
“All in good time,” said King Aveno. “Right now you’ll be escorted to your room.” Two guards stepped from the formation, stood on either side of her, and ushered her into the castle and through the main entry hall.
Solimar walked as slowly as possible, hoping to glimpse her mother, Abuela, Señor Verde, or anyone she knew. But she saw no one. She climbed the grand staircase to the second floor. As she walked down the long hall to her room, the weight of what might happen grew heavier. What would she reveal to King Aveno?
When she reached her room, one of the guards opened the door, nodded for her to go inside, and pulled it closed. A key rattled and turned in the lock, making sure she couldn’t escape.
Solimar changed into dry clothes and flung herself on her bed. Zarita and Lázaro huddled next to her.
“You’ve got this,” whispered Zarita.
All morning, the rain came down. With each passing hour, Solimar grew more and more apprehensive. She jumped when she heard a loud knock. Someone turned the key and the door swung open.
Señora Batista stood before her, holding a tray. A guard shadowed her.
Solimar rushed to her. “Señora Batista! Oh, I am so glad to see you! Where is my mother? And Abuela? Are they safe? Tell me.”
Señora Batista briskly walked past her into the room and set the tray on the small table. “I’m sorry, Solimar, I’m not allowed to talk right now. I am only permitted to deliver your lunch. Why don’t you eat? I made one of my sandwiches, the kind where I slip a little something savory between the ham and cheese. I remember how you always look forward to that.”
“Enough!” said the guard.
Señora Batista winked at Solimar, then quickly left, followed by the guard, who shut and locked the door.
Zarita, who had been lying on the bed and pretending to be lifeless, sat up. “What was that all about?”
“It’s an old joke. Señor Verde called Señor Batista’s sandwiches mountainous and teased that he always expected to find one of her cook’s journals between…” She stopped. And rushed to the table, lifting the domed lid on the tray. The sandwich was indeed mountainous. She looked closer.
Carefully, she removed the bread, lettuce, avocado, and tomato. Between the ham and cheese was a folded piece of paper. She smoothed it out to find a note in Abuela’s handwriting.
Don’t eat the pastries.
By two o’clock the sky was unapologetically sunny.
From the courtyard, trumpeters played a fanfare calling everyone to the festivities.
Solimar stood on her bedroom balcony, warming the rebozo and hoping it would be enough sunshine to sustain the remaining butterfly. How many questions would King Aveno ask? Would they drain the strength of the one she carried? Her heart ached at the thought that it might not survive. Gazing toward the oyamel forest in the distance, she begged the ancestral spirits for help.
When the guards knocked on the door, she draped the rebozo over her shoulders, tucked Zarita in her pocket, and called Lázaro to her shoulder. She held her head high as she followed the guards down the hall and the grand staircase, where they paused on the landing.
