La Gitana

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by Carol Ann


  We were greeted at the door by a surge of servants, servants to carry our trunks, servants offering wine, beverages, and food, and nobles to convey the King’s orders.

  We were to rest in our chambers and later in the afternoon meet him in court around 3:00 o’clock. The closets were full of resplendent gowns that shimmered and caught the light like winter snow. There were red velvet gowns like puddles of thick, red blood, green gowns, the color of ferns growing beside a stream, gold, and silver gowns, sparkling like the night stars. The gowns much surpassed the ones we had taken with us.

  Marie immediately took to her bed and put her hand over her forehead. She requested a wellness potion to drive away her headache. I mixed the bitter herbs, crushed them with a poultice and combined them with a small draught of red wine, and I gave her my alma (soul) necklace, a pink stone secured by a leather thong. When a gypsy woman finds a pink stone, she always makes a necklace to protect her baby’s soul. This way, Marie would have my gypsy spirit of wellness and health. I no longer need my beautiful, crude necklace and it looked so nice against her pale, yellow skin.

  “We shall wear this always, Carmen, my love. Now come lie by Us that We may feel your heart beating.” So we lay together, half asleep and half awake until it was time to go. When she got up she selected a high necked, gold inlaid gown and emerald ear 160

  rings. I selected a dark purple, velvet gown, the color of royalty, and later on drew up my wild, dark hair in a chignon secured by a diamond clasp. The neckline came low on my full, hard breasts. I sought to catch the eye of the King. Before we dressed we shared a lavender scented bath redolent of expensive oils. We washed each other’s private areas, and breasts, and shared many a fond kiss. When we were ready we glided down the hall like two wild gazelles. Marie was not tame and care-worn like some of the royal wives, and I, I was a lioness.

  The King and Queen, Mm. de Maintenon, sat in the central position on their red velvet thrones. When he saw his niece, his whole face radiated in a smile. Madame sat silent and without expression in her chair. He was, indeed, a comely man with a fine, sensitive face, and well formed for a man of fifty-one. His brown hair grew in fierce ringlets about his head like the mane of a lion. But the measure of a person is in his soul as seen through his eyes. They were not old eyes: there was a force and vitality emanating from them. This was no King who let his advisors run him. His brown eyes looked upon me favorably, and I awaited the right time to give him my “review”.

  Reviews were short poems praising the King that he enjoyed.

  “So, Marie Luisa, you’ve had the devil of a time with your clergy. So have We but We put them straight. The King’s law is God’s law. We like what you did to Torquemada, the sadistic bastard. The Church must never prevail over the King. We didn’t know you had it in you. There’s steel in your spine, my sweet Marie.” “Thank you, Uncle, We are well pleased. We were just acting like you and besides, Carlos sanctioned my actions. We were just following His will,” said Marie.

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  “That’s the second right thing He did. The first was losing the war at Rocroi to the Duc d’Engheim, the Grand Conde, in 1643. It prepared the way for the Peace of Westphalia in 1649.”

  “My King, my Uncle, We have loyalties to Spain and to my Husband, Carlos now. We must point out that it was your large purse, not strategy, that won the Thirty Years War,” said Marie.

  “You have a sharp tongue which is indicative of a sharp mind, Marie. We like that very much in a woman. What does your gypsy think of war?” I replied,” I think all wars come from coveting someone else’s life and land.”

  “You don’t think they’re fought on religious grounds?” asked the King.

  “No, I think that is but the shadow of the true meaning,” I replied. “Gypsies do not wage war. The dispute is settled in a meeting of what we call a Kris. The wise men, or Rom Barus decide what is just and no blood is shed.”

  “Are you not afraid to speak to Us in such a way. Most would hold their tongue.” I replied, “Courage is not the lack of fear, My King. It is acting in spite of the fear. And I hope in my heart that His Majesty likes women of character.”

  “We do like you, gypsy. You have greatly helped my Marie Luisa and Her King as Madame does for me. She consults with Me and my ministers about matters of State.

  However, We alone, make the final decision. She cannot overrule me and would never consider it. Madame has yet to speak. What say you, Wife?”

  “I think the gypsy is too bold and probably given to thievery,” said Madame.

  I replied, “My heartfelt greetings to the lovely Madame de Maintenon. I assure there is no need to steal when one already has everything. I beg you to reconsider.” 162

  “She steals thoughts and influences Marie Luisa through witchcraft,” she replied.

  “Marie Luisa cannot be fooled or overpowered in any way. Perhaps, Madame, you do not know your Niece very well. I use no witchcraft. I love my King and Queen,” I said.

  “What effrontery to contradict me in this way,” said Madame. “And you’re not even of noble lineage.”

  “Superiority to fate may be learned. I did just as you did. I made my life and not the other way around.”

  “I may not be of noble lineage,” said Madame. “but I am not trash. I am not a gypsy, the lowest of the low. And you are not pious: you do not do God’s work.”

  “I regret Madame has such a low opinion of me. I do confess each day and I, under the Queen’s rule, freed many good Catholics from unjust imprisonment. Due to the Queen’s and my effort many good people were released from a living hell.”

  “I trust you not one iota,” said Madame.

  “That is Madame’s choice, of course. I cannot be reborn as another more suitable person,” I replied. “I regret I have incurred your wrath.”

  “Ladies,” said the King “argument is just an infinity sign. It ends where it began.

  Stop this at once. Carmen, how would you like the job of turning stallions into geldings?”

  “The two legged or four legged variety?” I asked.

  The King laughed and said, “So it is true, and not a rumor. You actually did it.”

  “My King, do not think on it: I beg. It was a long time ago and I was but a girl of seventeen. I have regretted my action. Revenge only poison’s one’s own heart. I am a 163

  mother now: I have a son to live whom I love very much. Softness comes to a woman when she has people to love.”

  “We never repent,” said the King, “because We are never wrong. Our right to reign is God given.”

  “I wish to give His Majesty my review,” I said. “In spirit, His Majesty, is God on earth. In power he is equivalent to a charging bull or a raging lion. His deeds are cast in hardest metal and shall not fade even when he ascends to heaven. He is more than a King, He is the greatest Spirit to ever walk the earth. None shall surpass him in Spirit or deed.”

  “We are well pleased. Madame, you shall find a way to accept Marie’s companion. We command it,” he said.

  “The King may command my actions but not my heart,” Madame replied.

  “Madame, We beg you. She and Carlos are my life’s companions,” said Marie Luisa.

  “Is it true you prefer plums to bananas, my dear? You are not Godly.”

  “Madame, God has created us as We are just as he created you. As Queen of Spain, Marie Luisa, We command you not to speak to Us in this manner. You have not the title nor the authority to rebuke us on the basis of the idle gossip of servants. You shall not disrespect Carmen or Us. You will not talk with others of this heresy. We shall leave immediately should you continue in this manner. Think what you want but don’t speak what you ought not to. Were you anyone else We would behead you!”

  “Madame, We order you to go to your chambers and cease this idle gossip.

  Francoise, We command it!” said the King.

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  “We don’t want you girls to leave! Heaven’s no! You have enlivened our
afternoon. We shall not beat Madame either. We shall merely sleep on my side of the bed for a time. Madame likes our night exploits: she shall come around. We love it when women spar. Marie Luisa you were a girl when you left us. You’re a woman and a true Queen now. I know who the real ruler of Spain is. It’s you!”

  “Nay, Uncle, I am merely Carlos’s wife and companion,” said Marie.

  “Modesty is good in a woman: deathly in a queen. Remember that. But it is good that you love him though I don’t really see how,” he said.

  “Uncle, do not be rude. It is my business alone.”

  “That it is, Marie. We are a most hen-pecked man! Come sit next to me and tell me of Spain. How fares Carlos now?” said the King.

  “He is frail in mind and body and We fear he will not live long. He frequently prays to spirits and asks Carmen to read his fate constantly. She gives only pleasant forecasts to ease his mind. The nobles are revolting against Olivares’ tax policies and the clergy is also refusing to pay. They have much ill gotten land and riches and no lack of wealth. They feel they must be exempt from the excudio. We shall behead all who refuse to pay, mainly the leaders of the rebellion, nobles, and clergy alike. The treasury is all but bankrupt because of the many wars with you, Uncle Louis. It’s also because of the dirth of silver. The silver mines in Potosi are not producing enough. Sometimes Vellum is not accepted and loses its value if we print too much. There is widespread famine in the countryside. Spain is on its knees thanks to you Uncle Louis.

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  “My darling Niece, it is always the biggest wolf who eats the most. We would consider a loan to Spain if it would please Our favorite Niece,” said the King.

  Maria Luisa turned bright pink as she does when she is excited.

  “We don’t care if We come as a beggar if it will save Spain. The famine is widespread and petty crimes are on the increase. We are loathe to lock anyone up for stealing a loaf of bread. This misery must end and We must support the merchants and farmers. Carmen made Us see there is more to being a Queen than sitting on a throne and receiving praise. We feel the heart and pulse of the people. Misery is prevalent.”

  “Marie, said the King, “We will tell you what to do. Surround yourself with the most brilliant minds of the century and drink knowledge as if it were a fine wine.

  Reward your geniuses well with titles and money, and keep them close at hand. Appoint new talent and not the gentilhomme (people with long standing titles). Do this in case you have to dismiss some of them. Keep them close: make them couturiers. If they are close they cannot strike you or make war. Discourage the feudal system of vassals.

  Make them dependent on you. Do not promote clergy to high positions: they’re too independent and ambitious. Their kingdom is the kingdom of God not this world. The place of the clergy is to promote the teachings of the Lord not to wage war and seek power. Make sure all ill-gotten land during the Inquisition is returned to the rightful owners or their descendents. It is a new world: we must come out of the dark ages when vassals made their own laws and declared war on other factions. There must be centralized government, and a centralized code of laws which applies to everyone.

  Never give any one person too much authority. In France, no one may sign official documents but me. Try to make it so for Carlos if he lives long enough. You are the 166

  hand that rocks the throne. You are my own sweet girl. Keep Carmen close: she is a sensible woman.”

  I got down on my knees and said, “Thank you my King. I shall serve her well.” And the King said, “Rise and advance Carmen that the King and your admirer might kiss your hand, woman and warrior, too.”

  And the King kissed my hand and I saw a fire burning in his eyes. A fire I had seen many times before in men’s eyes.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  We adjourned to our chambers and were just disrobing when we heard a knock at the door. A beautiful girl stood outside, the most stunning I had ever seen. She was thin as the stalk of a calla lily, extremely tall with a long beautiful, white neck awash in diamonds. Her wheat gold hair, long and wavy reached well below her posterior. Her sensitive face, milk white tinged with rose was as fine as a baby’s skin. Her lips were wide and shaped like a cupid’s bow. Her eyes, an unusual chartreuse green with flecks of brown gold were surrounded by long, thick, blond eyelashes.

  “Good evening, my ladies, my name is Magdalena of Alsace, and I am a gift from the King. Do with me what you will.”

  “Take off your clothes,” commanded Marie, “and sit on the sofa. We shall call for wine and cheese. Our French wines and chesses are the finest in the world. You shall see, Carmen.”

  “I like the mistletoe, woven into you hair, Magdalena, I shall kiss you first,” I said.

  I pressed my nude body into hers and tasted her honeyed lips. Then Marie came over and lifted her hair, and kissed her on the back of her neck. Her hair smelled of cloves and wildflowers. She was sandwiched between us and we were rubbing her with our bodies. Then she turned around and tongue kissed Marie while I showered her backside with kisses, licking and sucking and I put my finger up her pussy which was very wet. I smelled her richness on my fingers and realized I wanted to suck her at some time during the evening.

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  Then the wine and cheeses arrived and she sat on the velvet, burgundy colored couch between us, her hands stroking our breasts and bellies. The Queen fed her morsels of cheese and held the dainty wine glass to her lips while I masturbated her sweet woman’s flower. Desire and wine made me light headed, and the room had an orange tint due to all the candles. One side of our faces was in light: the other side was in total darkness, just like our very souls. Magdalena came in jerking spasms and grabbed my hand forcing it even deeper into her hole. A wet spot attesting to her pleasure remained as a stain on the couch. She looked like a mythological creature perhaps Venus de Milo or Botticelli’s Venus on the half shell. The room glimmered with soft light and the smell of womankind.

  Then Marie lay down on her back on the huge canopied bed and commanded us to make love to her. I took to kissing Marie’s temples and eyes while arousing her small, erect breasts with the tips of my fingernails. Marie liked a little pain so I was rough: she liked me to pinch her breasts for that little trickle of pain. Magdalena sucked and tongued Marie’s slit while Marie grabbed her long hair forcing her head and lips even deeper so she could scarcely breathe. Marie’s mound puffed up like the head of a mushroom, and her hips bucked back and forth in a paroxysm of her final ecstasy. She screamed like the cry of a cougar.

  Then Marie ordered us to make love to one another so she could watch.

  Marie spoke. “In the candlelight you look like two bookends. First, We want you to embrace and rub each others bodies and then insert your fingers into each other’s pussies. Let there be no sparing of open mouthed kisses. When you can stand it no more 169

  get in the bed and put your mouth on each other’s twats and come like an ocean. We will direct all your movements.”

  I was lost in a sea of lust and my mind fled me. There was the taste of the sweet nectarine of her pussy and the faint smell of a dying fish. She was very good and it felt as though she would suck my very insides out, such was the force of her lust. I felt the hard nodules of her nipples on my body and knew she could feel mine. Then there was the hot volcanic nature of my release, that final burning sensation when everything is fire and there is no more of you. Magdalena jammed her pussy into my face and she too screamed like Marie. I, alone, was silent as I had not the force left in me to scream.

  When it was over Marie commanded us to lay on either side of her and said, “We shall not bathe. We shall sleep in the nature of our lust as sainted girls. The angels were here with us this eve. I cannot believe God would disapprove an act so beautiful.” Later that night I awoke and saw the King standing at the foot of our bed. He raised one finger to his lips and winked before exiting.

  That morning, Monsieur Philippe, the King’s younger
brother, was at our door with a breakfast of sausages, bacon, eggs, croissants, fresh squeezed orange juice, and coffee. He was called simply “Monsieur” by everyone. He looked like a younger, less boisterous, thinner version of King Louis with his long, curly, brown hair and raw umber colored eyes. He wore a red satin pantsuit with ruffles at the neck.

  “I’m Monsieur, and I’m sure you girls have heard of me. Mon Dieu (My God), who does not know Monsieur Philippe? Marie Luisa you look a bit sated. Have you girls been up to some nonsense?” he said with a laugh.

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  “The King has sent me to see you are well nourished on your stay here. Who better to send. No, please do not cover up, girls. I’ve seen it all. Believe me, pussy has no effect on me: everyone knows that truth. It does nothing for me. The King says I am to take care of you on your stay here and show you around. I’m going to tell you some cock and bull stories only without the bull.” And he laughed again. “Throw those covers off: you must be hot and don’t worry. It’s just us girls here. My goodness, Marie, you haven’t gained a pound. And I like you girls, tres chic.

  Marie threw her arms around her Uncle Philippe, saying, “Don’t worry about Our uncle, girls. He is as We are, and wouldn’t take a woman if she were that last person on earth. Monsieur, draw us a bath: we must smell like a herd of cows.”

  “Mon Dieu, (My God), I’ll wash your little twats for you if you like. You know how I like shampooing hair. To make a woman look beautiful is my pleasure.”

  “No, thanks, Monsieur,” said Marie, “but you may powder us and fix our hair.”

  “Nonsense, Marie. I’ll wash your tits and twats. Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”

  “Oh, very well, Uncle, We’ve had stranger things happen,” said Marie.

  “Do, I have anything to say about this,” I asked.

  “No,” said Marie.

  “Oh, goodie,” said Monsieur. “I don’t study war: I study amor (love). I shall make you ladies very beautiful. You will not regret this. And Versailles is the city of love. Oh, I’ve got an impression for you. See if you can figure out who it is. He walked stiffly across the floor, fanned himself with an imaginary fan, and sat down in a chair as if it pained him, and put on a very stern face.”

 

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