Solimar, page 4
“Campeón, you’re not suggesting…?”
He nodded, his gaze steady and his mouth set.
“No!”
“Soli, I’ve thought about this for a long time, so don’t try to talk me out of it. It’s what I want. I have a plan. On Friday night after everyone is asleep, I’ll leave a note for Father and sneak away. I know how to slip out of camp through the forest, disguised as a stable hand without anyone noticing. I’ve done it many times before. And when La Quinta sails at dawn on Saturday morning, I’ll already be on board.”
“But isn’t that the day of the meeting to form the alliance against King Aveno?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “But Father doesn’t need me. He’s entirely capable. I would just be in the background anyway.”
She frowned. What was wrong with Campeón? He was going to have all the power in the kingdom someday. “But why? When you are king you can do whatever you choose.”
Campeón shook his head. “With the title of king comes very little freedom, and at this point in my life, the obligations and responsibilities are not true to my heart.”
“But it is written…”
“Where does it say I must be king? Or that I must stay in this kingdom forever?”
She wrestled with her thoughts. He was right. “It’s…it’s just the way of the land.”
“Precisely…” said Campeón. He pointed to the courtyard. “We used to play there with María when we were children. We’d spend entire afternoons making tents with blankets in our own little pretend kingdom. It was you who ruled us. We were your loyal subjects.”
“It was just a children’s game…”
“Was it? Or were we trying on grown-up lives?” asked Campeón. “Even then I didn’t want to be king. I need to go away and discover my heart instead of accepting what people say I’m supposed to be. Haven’t you ever dreamed of going somewhere other than San Gregorio?”
“To visit, yes! But I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Campeón, please don’t leave. What if…what if something happens to Father while you are gone?”
Campeón sighed. “The kingdom would pass to another prince, probably a distant cousin in Spain, until I could return. But don’t worry. Father is healthy and strong. He wasn’t planning on passing the crown to me for three years anyway. Even then, he’d be my advisor in all matters. Don’t you see, Soli? This is my chance to explore. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get it out of my system and return in a few months, feeling differently.” Campeón attempted a smile.
He didn’t sound as if he’d feel differently. Perplexed, Solimar shook her head. “Campeón, who doesn’t want to be king?”
He looked into her eyes and said, “Me.”
As much as Solimar loved her brother and wanted him near, she could feel his yearning to leave. She hugged him tight. “I will miss you more than you can imagine.”
“Please keep my secret.”
Her heart heavy, she whispered, “I promise.”
“I need to meet Father at the stables. What was it you wanted to tell me?”
She’d almost forgotten. The rebozo! But it was far too complicated to explain in this moment, and now that he had such grand plans, Solimar didn’t want to burden him. “Oh…well…only that the butterflies are here. The oyamel trees are covered. The forest looks beautiful. Watch for them.”
He held her at arm’s length. “I will. And when I see them, I’ll think of you.”
“Ahem!” Señor Verde stood in the balcony doorway.
They would have heard anyone else’s footfalls on the marble steps of the grand staircase!
“Do you think he was eavesdropping?” whispered Campeón.
“No,” she murmured. “He’s too far away.” Solimar took the book from his hands. Holding it up, she called, “Look, Señor Verde! Campeón gave me a volume of poetry.”
“How sweet,” said Señor Verde. “I suspected it was some such memento.” As quickly and quietly as he’d appeared, he left.
“The Shadow,” whispered Campeón.
Even though they both collapsed with laughter, Solimar blinked back tears.
In the damp aftermath of the early morning sprinkles that Solimar had predicted yesterday, she pulled the rebozo around her and hurried to meet her mother and Señor Verde in the plaza in front of the barbican towers.
Señora Batista, María, and the castle staff followed.
The horses, donkeys, and wagons were already positioned in a parade-like order on the cobblestone street that led down through San Gregorio. Villagers crowded on either side. Children held their mothers’ hands as their fathers and brothers kissed them good-bye, then the men joined the caravan, mounting their horses or taking up a donkey’s rope.
King Sebastián stood in the lead, holding the reins of both his and Prince Campeón’s horses. Behind him, men tightened the tie-downs on horse-drawn wagons loaded with boxes and bags stuffed with the kingdom’s arts and crafts. Up and down the departure line, men checked the bulging packs on donkeys. Handlers settled the eager dogs and secured them to leashes.
Señor Verde approached the king, saying much too loudly, “King Sebastián, don’t worry. San Gregorio is in good hands. I will take care of everything!”
Señora Batista whispered, “I hope this year he will not be too insufferable while the king is away.”
Queen Rosalinda sighed. “He means well, and he’s devoted. I think he’s putting on a bit of show for his new assistant. He just tries a little too…enthusiastically. We will all have to be patient with him.”
Solimar’s eyes sifted through the crowd. Where was Campeón? He should already be next to Father. She caught sight of him on a stone bench beneath an arch of bougainvillea, sitting with Abuela. He held both of her hands and leaned his head close to hers.
Just as Solimar had predicted, a sliver of sun broke through the clouds, bathing everyone in welcomed brightness.
She scooted into the shade.
“It’s time!” called King Sebastián.
Campeón hugged Abuela and then found his mother. He moved to Solimar, unintentionally pulling her into the sun. He whispered, “I told Abuela my secret. She wants to talk to you. You’re to meet her as soon as we’re gone. You can trust her.” He embraced Solimar one last time. “Soli, what will I dream tonight?”
Her words burst. “You will dream you are bare-chested in a crow’s nest on a tall ship, disheveled and unshaven, looking toward the horizon with your arms outstretched like a bird and grinning from ear to ear.”
Campeón laughed. “You’re very kind to indulge me.” He kissed her forehead and ran to his position in the caravan. After mounting his horse, he saluted and waved.
Solimar stepped back into the shadow of the castle, trying not to cry, but tears filled her eyes anyway.
King Sebastián raised his arm, and the caravan quieted except for the gentle snuffling and pawing of the animals. His voice rang out, strong and confident. “As your king, I ask you to pray for our safety. Wrapped in your well-wishes, we go forth to Puerto Rivera for the prosperity and future of San Gregorio! Our heart and our home! ¡Viva la mariposa!”
The crowd cheered. And the cry “San Gregorio! Our heart and our home! Long live the butterfly!” echoed through the streets.
Slowly, the caravan made its way from the castle and down the cobbled road. Family and friends fell in behind the men as they passed, following to the edge of the village, where they stopped to wave and blow kisses.
Solimar watched until the caravan disappeared. She always felt an ache for those who were departing but never as much as she did now, thinking about her brother and how long he might be gone. “Be safe, Campeón,” she whispered.
Her mother came forward, smiling. “They’re off. Thank goodness for the sun. I hope it lasts. Oh, don’t forget that we are having tea later today with Señora Batista and Señor Verde to talk about the quinceañera.” She kissed Solimar on the cheek before heading to the castle.
Solimar found her grandmother still sitting on the bench beneath the bougainvillea arch. “Abuela, you wanted to see me?”
She patted the bench. “Sit next to me, Solimar.”
Abuela took her hand. “You were right. Campeón has no intention of choosing a bride anytime soon. Nor is he planning to return with the caravan. He also told me that he just shared the secret with you last night. But you mentioned it to me earlier yesterday. I was already suspicious about your premonitions, but now I’m sure that you are under the influence of a spell. We need to discover what happened. And why. It is for your own protection.”
Solimar took a deep breath. She needed…wanted to tell someone. If Campeón could trust Abuela with a huge secret, so could she. “I know what happened, and when, but I don’t know why or what it means. Yesterday…” She bit her lip and hesitated. Would she be in trouble for crossing the creek? “Will you tell my mother?”
“Let us not concern her just yet,” said Abuela.
“I crossed the creek…” she began. She told Abuela every detail she could remember, even that María said that all her premonitions came from the power of suggestion and common sense.
“I think you and I know it is more than that,” said Abuela. “But this is not something for others to hear.” She looked around to see if anyone was nearby. “Tomorrow morning, I want you to come someplace with me.”
“Where?”
“I will tell you when we’re on our way. Until then, it would be wise to stay inside and keep to yourself. Meet me at the bottom of the grand staircase after breakfast. I will tell your mother I am taking you with me to forage for herbs.” She pointed to Solimar’s wrap. “Is that the rebozo that was affected?”
Solimar nodded.
“It will need to be examined, but it will be chilly where we’re headed, so wear a heavier shawl over it.”
“Examined by who?”
Abuela’s brow wrinkled as if she was deep in thought. Without answering, she rose and started into the garden, then she turned. “Not a word to anyone. This is a serious matter.”
Solimar frowned. She had never seen Abuela so concerned, and it unsettled her. Where were they going tomorrow? And who, exactly, would examine the rebozo?
In the morning, she did as Abuela had said and found her warmest shawl. She couldn’t figure out why she would need it this time of year, but she draped it around her shoulders and over the rebozo anyway.
Lázaro stirred from a nap.
“Don’t get up, Lázaro. I’m going on an outing with Abuela. I’ll be back soon.” She kissed him on top of his head, and he sank back into the fluff of his feathers.
Abuela was already waiting at the bottom of the staircase. Even though the castle was quiet and no one was about, as soon as she saw Solimar, she held a finger over her lips to signal that they shouldn’t talk. Instead of heading toward the back patio and outside, though, she pulled Solimar into the library and quickly shut the double doors.
Solimar had always loved the spacious room, where a large map in an ornate wooden frame dominated one wall. It featured all of San Gregorio and the surrounding kingdoms. She had often stood in front of it with Father as he told her the names of every road, grove, and valley. A round pedestal table with lion’s-paw legs sat in the middle of the room, with heavy chairs surrounding it. Two sofas were positioned perpendicular to a stone fireplace, and bookcases lined the remaining three walls. Light streamed through yellow stained-glass windows near the ceiling, giving the entire room an amber glow.
Abuela hurried to the west wall of shelves.
“Why are we here?” asked Solimar.
“Shhh.” Abuela ran her fingers along a shelf until she came to a small book with a gold cover. She took it out, reached into the space, and pulled on something.
A section of the bookcase clicked open to reveal a passageway!
Solimar’s eyes widened.
Abuela quickly replaced the book and stepped inside the tunnel. She waved for Solimar to follow and whispered, “Stay close behind me, but no talking yet. I’ll explain when we’re outside.” She took a lantern from the wall and lit it, then pulled the bookcase door until it clicked shut. Holding the lantern in front of her, Abuela started up the passageway.
Solimar had no choice except to follow and keep quiet. The air was stale and cold. She was already grateful for the heavier shawl and hugged it around her.
“The tunnel slopes upward,” whispered Abuela. “It will take only ten minutes to reach the other side, but it’s a bit of a hike.”
They were both breathing heavily when Abuela held the lantern higher and revealed a wooden door. “There. The way out. Stay close.” Abuela pushed it open, blew out the flame, and left the lantern on a ledge in the tunnel. Then she secured the door behind them.
Abuela edged through the vines and tall bushes that hid the tunnel’s entrance until they stood on a knoll north of the castle in the shadow of one of the tall mountain peaks.
Solimar pointed to a trail leading into a narrow valley. “Is that where we’re going?”
Abuela nodded.
“How did you know about the tunnel?”
Abuela reached for Solimar’s hand and started walking. “Many of the castles and forts built in this area had hidden passageways so that if anyone tried to attack, rob, or pillage, the family had a way to escape. My father showed me that tunnel when I was your age. I remember once there was going to be a women’s embroidery circle in the library. My mother told me I couldn’t attend because the women would be discussing things not appropriate for a child. I hid in the tunnel and listened from the bookcase all afternoon.” She smiled. “I could hear every word they said. But there was nothing of interest to me. I was bored and stuck there until everyone left.”
“Do my parents know about the tunnel?”
“I told your mother when she was about your age.”
“She’s never mentioned it to me,” said Solimar.
Abuela shrugged. “As far as I know, I’m the only one who has used it these many years. Now, as I once made your mother promise to keep the secret, I am doing the same with you.”
“You have my word. But why do you use it?”
“It’s a shortcut. Instead of hiking around the castle and through the forest, I can use the tunnel, and in half the time, reach the trail’s end. There is someone I often visit there.”
“Who?”
“La curandera.” The word trilled off Abuela’s tongue as if Lázaro was singing, coo ran der ah.
Solimar stopped. She had heard about the curandera, the folk healer, who lived on the shadowy side of the mountain where few dared to travel unless they needed to be rid of a curse or cleansed of evil spirits. “But, she is …una bruja.”
Abuela shook her head. “She is not a witch. Her name is Doña Flor Espinoza, and she comes from a long line of curanderas. She was my teacher, and I know her well. If she is a witch, then so am I.”
“You cure stomachaches with peppermint tea. They say she puts spells on people, or gives them potions that make them do things they don’t want to do.” Solimar cringed. “Why must we go see her? You said I was already under a spell.”
“Understanding why it happened will give you some control, some power over it. Besides, her enchantment is for good. Now, when we arrive, it would be polite if you do not question anything that seems…well, out of the ordinary or startling.”
“Startling? Like…what?”
“Some things at Doña Flor’s house are charmed. Just be…accepting. That’s all I ask. Embrace the mystery and the peculiarities. Please?”
Solimar frowned but nodded. Charmed in what way? And, to what was she was agreeing?
The sun rose higher, and the world brightened, but the trail stayed in the shadow of the mountain: cold, damp, and overgrown.
The air grew misty.
Solimar heard the roar of rushing water. She moved closer to Abuela. They rounded a bend in the trail and arrived at a waterfall plunging into a wide stream that crossed in front of them. Clouded in a showery spray, a rope-and-plank bridge stretched across the churning water.
Abuela cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “We must pass one at a time!” As she stepped onto the bridge, the planks swayed side to side, but Abuela was nimble and hurried across with the confidence of someone who had done it before. She waved for Solimar to join her.
Grabbing the ropes, Solimar gulped and gathered her courage. If Abuela could do it, so could she. Her heart beat faster as she plunged ahead.
When the waterfall was behind them and the mist had lifted, Solimar noticed a clearing in the distance. In the middle sat a small stone house with a red door. A thin worm of smoke curled from the chimney. On the side of the house, a rooster strutted and chickens pecked and clucked in the yard near a dilapidated coop. Three goats with bells around their necks bleated.
The door opened, and a woman walked forward to meet them. She wore a white blouse with full sleeves gathered at the cuff, a necklace made of large orange beads, and a long red skirt. Her salt-and-pepper hair dropped down her back in a long braid.
Abuela embraced her. “Doña Flor…” She turned to Solimar. “I would like to present my granddaughter, Solimar.”
Solimar stammered. “It…it…” Was she talking to a witch?
Abuela nodded at Solimar, encouraging her to say something more.
“It is a p-pleasure to meet you.”
Doña Flor embraced Solimar, kissing her on both cheeks. “Come inside. I’ve been expecting you, so I made hot chocolate. Let me take your heavy shawls.”
Solimar frowned and whispered to Abuela, “How did she know we were coming?”
Abuela shrugged. “One never knows with Doña Flor.”
Inside, the front room was dim and cluttered. A rocker made from braided tree branches sat to one side of the hearth, with two yellow chairs on the other side. A small fire danced in the fireplace. Colorful ceramic masks of the sun and the moon with hand-painted faces covered every inch of wall space.
Was it Solimar’s imagination, or were the eyes on the masks following her? She pressed closer to Abuela.
