by Doug Walker
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Then came the day of the immigration hearing. All eight appeared before a panel in a courtroom of the federal building in Raleigh, a solemn session. They had agreed to let Guy act as spokesperson.
He told the immigration court that the six were Armada scholars and had been drawn together to present a traveling re-enactor series on university campuses across the nation. Their service would be a considerable contribution to American culture, and the tour could be expanded to all of the Americas and Europe.
The presiding judge said that would be taken into consideration, but they were assembled there today on a deportation issue regarding illegal aliens.
“If the court please,” Guy said, attempting to be politically correct, “these eight citizens of San Villafranca are political refugees and seek asylum on our friendly shores. That is how they came to leave their homeland in such haste. There was no time to visit the American Consulate or travel commercially. They fled to a small airport, pooled their resources and hired a gypsy plane.”
The presiding judge rubbed the side of his head for a long moment. The sound of birds could be heard through an open window. A plane droned in the distance. The female member of the panel coughed and put a tissue to her nose.
“This is new information,” the presiding judge began. “We have heard through a member of your faculty that these six San Villafrancans are simply illegal immigrants. Can you explain where this refugee thing comes from?”
“Your informant, who I think I know, may have had his own agenda in making such a charge. We were summoned before you, but we would have come in on our own in due time. You see, if any of these six refugees show their face again on that small island, they will be put to death. That is the instructions from the boss of that small nation, the one known as El Numero Uno.”
The judge smiled. “An odd title.”
The female member of the board spoke up. “I’ve heard it before. I’ve also heard that El Numero Uno is not an individual, but a group of businessmen who run the corrupt show over there.”
“But you might agree,” Guy said, “that regardless of being one person or a group, the word of El Numero Uno is law. What he says is gospel, and a death sentence is a death sentence.”
“That’s true,” she agreed. “But how to get to the bottom of this. How do we know what you say is true?”
“There are telephones and there is what passes for a state department on San Villafranca. I don’t think this ruling is a secret.”
“But why?” the presiding judge questioned. “Why this harsh judgment on six people?”
“There’s no secret there either. They were the backbone of a small organization, something akin to the ACLU. As I’ve said, they are scholastics and have that liberal bent.”
“Yes,” the judge pondered, “I’m familiar with those left wingers. Very close to communism if you ask me.”
“But their activities don’t rise to the level of capital crimes.”
“Perhaps not. If the board agrees, our staff will look into this, and if there is a death edict in place, and if these six individuals are deemed useful citizens, perhaps by the UNC president, we can start the proceedings to give them the shelter of our shores. Do they all speak English?”
“Two of them speak a form of English, the other four are learning.”
Lord Percy almost rose to take issue with Guy’s words, but Courtney held him back.
There was general agreement among the board, and the hearing was adjourned.
And so the Chapel Hill six were adjudged political refugees and their academic act was honed to near perfection.
Prof. Guy King would lead off by explaining that the six had spent years in earnest study and would not step out of their roles.
Doña María would begin by detailing the life of a wealthy merchant family that had risen to the level of nobility in ancient Madrid. Following her was Doria Queveda who would characterize the frenzied nightlife of both commoners and nobility, getting down and dirty into prostitution and criminal activity. She did snatches of popular songs of the day.
Then followed Jesus who played the role of a trooper who rose through the ranks to sergeant and then made the unusual jump to lieutenant and captain. In tandem with Cadet Francisco, the two took them to the voyage of La Anunciada to the Azores and back to Lisbon and then their role in the Armada with every hardship from fireships to taking cannon ball “between wind and water” until the abortive sail around Scotland and Ireland and the scuttling and burning of the vessel in the River Shannon.
At that point Major Courtney Wellston and Lord Percy would take over, beginning their portions of the show at the Court of St. James in London. Courtney would document his rise to major as a professional soldier and then an unfortunate fight where he mortally wounded a cousin of the Duke of York and was exiled by Queen Elizabeth herself to a drab garrison in Ireland.
Percy would then tell his story. He had the misfortune of being born gay and the good fortune of being born to nobility. In truth he enjoyed both realities. Following a classic education and a series of consensual affairs, he blundered into a seduction of the sixth heir to the throne, a lad who just turned teen. Assigned to Wellston’s garrison, as a peer he was second in command.
The two would then tell their side of the story of meeting with the remnants of La Anunciada. There the story would end, and Mary McKay would follow up with an often lengthy question-and-answer session.
The show was an instant success. Grants came in as well as financing from various colleges and universities where bookings were made. An agent was signed on and bookings were secured at public theaters. Under the title “The Spanish Armada,” the show was touted as high entertainment with serious, but not fatal, cultural overtones.
During the initial hoopla, there were wedding bells. And always the insistence by Jesus and Doria that the group must return to Spain to find the ancient gold and then face the difficulties of converting it to a modern fortune.