by Allen, Jewel
“But I was fine, wasn’t I?” she said, brushing his long hair from his face, cupping the side of his face with her hand.
“You were more than fine,” he said. As if to make his point, he kissed her again.
Her blood flowed like molten lava through her veins.
Their romance began a year ago, after the Spaniards ambushed his family. His parents were killed and he had survived.
How do you comfort someone after such a horrible tragedy? She followed him to the top of a cliff not as princess, but as his childhood playmate and friend. At first, she just crouched beside him, not speaking. Then, when he started sobbing, she touched his arm. He turned to her with anguish, revealing a long-hidden desire for her. They clung to each other and had not let go since.
After a little while, he rested his forehead against hers. “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it, my love?” She nuzzled his cheek.
“I have to leave on the next full moon.”
“On a hunting expedition?”
“No. On a long one.”
She glanced up and frowned. “How long?”
“Two years.” He averted his eyes.
Dread settled in her stomach. “I will issue an order immediately. You won’t have to stay away that long, not if I can help it.”
“Juliza, you don’t understand.” His eyes pleaded. “I have to do this. I can help others weaken the stronghold of the Spanish tyrants.”
“Just the other day, you said you never wanted to be parted from me,” Juliza reminded him. “Was that a lie?”
“Of course not. But I am of age that I must prove myself a man.”
She hadn’t pushed him away yet, but retreated somewhere he couldn’t reach. “You mean you have to go on this irrational quest to bring back your parents’ lives when you should really move on?”
He flinched as though she had slapped him. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose your parents.”
She relented then, tried to pull him back into her heart. “I don’t, but I know it hurts. I don’t want to lose you, Koda. Warriors that go on these long expeditions rarely come back unscathed. Stay on the island, safe with me, my love. As soon as I become crown princess, I can change the laws and we can marry.”
“I’ll be back then. I’ll only be gone two years.”
“Two interminable years!” Juliza’s voice rose. “Two years of longing for you, waking in the morning and thinking I would see you. Rushing out of bed to the window, to catch a glimpse of you in the gardens, where you would be waiting for me. Only to realize it’s a dream that used to be, that you’re nowhere on the island.
She continued. “And when I’m in my studies, I’ll look out and dream of you, thinking how the hours will tick past and I will see you again in court, as you and your uncle come to make a report to my father. We will pore over maps and you will say something clever and wise, and my father will commend you to your uncle. We shall exchange glances and brush against each other as we mull our political options on the table.
“But no, that, too, shall not come to pass. The day will just turn despairingly into the night. All I’ll have is a frustrating night tossing and turning, wishing I could see even your shadow.”
Koda’s expression gentled. “In two years’ time, you will be free to marry of your own choosing. We will marry then. Right now, all we have are secret moments.”
“If you love me,” she said, “you will choose to stay.”
“You know I can’t do that. If I stay, you won’t want me. I won’t be able to live with myself. I will always wonder if I should have gone.”
“If you leave,” she said, “I can’t promise you anything. I might even marry someone else.”
“You don’t mean that.” He tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away.
“I hear the others,” she lied.
“Juliza,” he pled, “let’s forget I said this. Let’s go on as we were. We’ll make the most of our time together, and we’ll see past our differences. You’ll see. At any rate, let’s not quarrel. I can’t bear for you to be angry or sad.”
Juliza’s studied his dear face. But the hurt was too great right now to curb her impulse. “No,” she said. “I think it’s best if we cut it off right now.”
He looked stricken with fear. She reveled in her power to hurt him, even though a part of her knew she was being ridiculously petty.
“Juliza.” He reached for her.
She spoke her next words precisely. “I am your princess, and I command you to leave me alone.”
He closed his eyes, as though reeling from pain. When he opened them, his cold expression made her flinch. “Princess.” He bowed and turned away.
Juliza leaned against the tree trunk and took a deep breath. Did she just say what she did? Did it mean she wouldn’t see him any more today? Or forever? Would tomorrow bring an apology and a sweet reunion?
She watched him walk down the path, handsome and lithe, and already, she yearned for him. She wanted to shout his name, to tell him she had made a terrible mistake. Would he please forgive her? Of course they could be as before until he leaves, and she would promise to keep him in her heart so that when he returned, they could marry.
But the words froze in her throat. And besides, she really could hear the others coming down the mountain.
When she returned to the palace, he was not at the evening council. Only her Sultan father and Koda’s uncle pored over the maps. For a long time, she stood by the window, waiting for Koda to make an appearance, but he never did. Not that day, nor the next, nor the following week.
She saw him once, in the garden, too far away to talk to. He gazed at her as she stood framed by her bedroom window. She thought about signaling that she was happy to see him. If she had, he probably would have been by her side immediately on some pretext or another.
But she just gave him a cold nod and withdrew. When she changed her mind and wanted to give him a smile after all, he had left the garden.
The day he joined the others on the long expedition, she didn’t go to the harbor. She sat stubbornly at her desk in the schoolroom, listening to the day’s lessons. As the vintas sailed, she turned away from the window.
Later, when she ran out to the cliff, she could no longer see the multi-colored striped sails. She could only feel her heart break, while tears – hot, swift, and never-ending – ran down her cheeks.
Chapter One
Two years later, 1768, Manila, Philippines
Gulls arrived about the same time that the people did, to greet the Spanish galleon Santissima Trinidad. It had been six months since the docking of the last ship, and everyone was starved for news and goods from Spain. It was a cloudy day in September, reportedly a relief from the punishing sun that usually blessed this harbor city in the Philippines. To the new Spanish arrival who was not accustomed to the tropics, however, it was hellishly hot.
Captain Raúl Calderón came out of his cabin at the sound of the land-cry, his Spartan belongings all packed and ready. His Spanish-issued blue Army uniform felt heavy and sticky against his skin. He fingered the gold buttons on his collar but decided against shrugging it off. There was no time to take his coat off anyway. The gangplank was being lowered and passengers were already lining up to disembark.
Raúl didn’t know what exactly what to expect of the Philippine colonies, but it wasn’t this. On the dock stood a short and brown crowd that dressed in the approximation of Europe, but with materials that were more colorful, gaudy even. Over the low landscape of stone houses and dense trees towered Catholic church belfries. The bay water looked muted, the blue of his uniform dulled, under the clouds. Carriages decked with festive ribbons were pulled around by spry little horses along the cobblestone streets.
A man came to stand beside him, a fellow Spaniard. “So this is las Filipinas,” Raúl’s acquaintance said. “Where do you report to first?”
“I have been directed to see the governor-genera
l,” Raúl said. “And you?”
“I will look up a friend’s brother who lives in Laguna de Bay. Then I shall try my luck at a new life.”
The two men shook hands. “Good luck to you. May we meet again.”
“And the same here,” the acquaintance said, before venturing out into the crowd.
“Welcome to las Filipinas!” a native man greeted Raúl just outside the dock, at the same time that he offered to sell him a bag of fried peanuts coated heavily in garlic and salt.
Raúl listened to the chatter around him, a mix of Spanish and languages he didn’t know, but he could tell that among them, there were Chinese. The Philippines was an interesting mix that way, Spanish, Chinese and Malay combined. He had seen pictures of the colonized Americas and he could sense a similar atmosphere here.
“Señor, where may I take you?” a carriage driver offered.
“To the gobernadorcillo,” Raúl said.
The carriage driver expressed surprise and delight. His assessing eyes seemed to consider him an illustrious patron who would no doubt give him a generous tip.
Raúl was in no mood to chat. He was still reeling from the after-effects of the months-long voyage, and his feet were still, in fact, feeling rubbery. But he tolerated the carriage driver’s friendly prattle in surprisingly good Spanish.
“Is this your first time here, Officer? Yes? Well, then, you are in for a marvelous time. A marvelous time, indeed. This is the rainy season, so it will not be so unpleasant for you. If it rains, usually it doesn’t last very long. Just long enough to cool everything off, and to sustain the trees and plants that you see. And where are you from in the peninsula?”
“Madrid. Not originally.”
“I hear that Madrid has changed much in the reign of his Highness, Carlos the Third.”
“It has,” Raúl nodded. “Some might not agree, but for the better.”
“Ah, and I wish that the changes would happen here, too. But just like the weather turns sluggish, so does the worker.” The driver pointed at a beautiful church with vivid-colored stained glass windows. “The San Agustin Church, Señor, one of the most prized landmarks in these parts. It is the oldest church and has many wealthy benefactors.”
As they passed, a mass seemed to be concluding. A stream of well-heeled parishioners came out. Again, Raúl marveled at their sense of fashion. The women were pretty, looking like delicate butterflies in an interesting dress that had sleeves that stood at their shoulders. The men wore tailored pants and a material that looked translucent, layered with a white undershirt.
“Well, here we are,” the driver cheerfully announced. He pulled over to the side where already, there were other carriages parked and letting out their passengers. The building was three stories high and about a block long, festooned by Spanish flags.
The guards eyed the visitor with interest and let him pass with respectful nods.
Raúl climbed the steps of the white building and entered through a set of heavy double doors. Inside, it was surprisingly cool, with the walls and floors made of stone and very little carpet under one’s feet. There was a small receiving area with a desk and chair whose seat was made of woven material, two velvet covered chairs, but it wasn’t manned.
After waiting several minutes, he decided he would try to find someone to help him. Trying the first door to his right, he opened it and found a man soundly asleep on a settee.
“Excuse me,” Raúl said.
The man opened his eyes and stared uncomprehending at Raúl, then he slowly shook himself awake. He was an older man, in his fifties, and heavy-set.
“Pardon me,” the man said, still reclining on the furniture, “but did you not see the sign on the door?”
Raúl looked around the door, and there was, indeed, a sign that said in Spanish, “Please do not disturb.”
“Now I do,” Raúl said.
The man bristled and looked at Raúl pointedly.
“I’m here to see the governor-general,” Raúl said.
“He’s indisposed, as I am,” the man said, turning over on the settee so his back was turned to Raúl.
“Perhaps you will kindly tell the governor-general that I carry in my possession a letter that from the king of Spain himself?”
“The king!” the man exclaimed, nearly rolling off the furniture in his panic. “The king and a letter! Why, immediately, of course, we shall have to let the gobernador know. He’d want to know!”
The man motioned towards the settee. “Sit,” he said. “In fact, if you wish, you are welcome to sleep as I have.”
“I shall stand and wait,” Raúl said.
After several minutes, the door opened and the stout man came in and gestured for him to come down the hallway.
“Can I leave my suitcases in your room?” Raúl asked.
“Of course, of course.” The man bowed obsequiously. He introduced himself as Francisco Tayag. “May I ask what your name is, Señor?”
Raúl hesitated, just for a heartbeat. If he revealed his identity, he might court danger, but he wasn’t concerned about consequences here. He was halfway across the world in a different country where people didn’t know him.
“Raúl Calderón,” he said.
The man’s eyes widened. “Calderón, mmm. I know that name. It’s a name that has been mentioned here by the governor himself. You are a hero of the battlefield, if I am not mistaken.”
So much for staying anonymous, but it was too late to undo. “I will have to ask you, Señor Tayag, to not mention to anyone that you have met me. There are some who might not be as welcoming to me as you have been.”
“Oh,” Señor Tayag exclaimed, “but I don’t understand how that could be! Everyone knows of your exploits, how you kept the King safe from the mobs. How you single-handedly disarmed a rebellious count.”
Raúl smiled ruefully. “That is precisely why I must ask you to not announce to everyone that I have arrived. I wouldn’t want my enemies to hunt me down in the middle of the night.”
They were now walking through a hallway with beautiful oil paintings depicting scenes in the peninsula. “Of course,” Señor Tayag said. “Ah, here we are. The governor awaits you.” He opened a door in the end of the hallway and squeezed himself past Raúl to announce him.
“Raúl Calderón!” Again, that fawning bow.
The governor, Jose Raón, was a short man of tidy features. A small mustache, straight hair plastered in place by pomade, narrow shoulders and a pursed, unsmiling mouth. Then he broke into a smile of welcome, and he seemed taller, more commanding. He walked around his desk and offered a handshake.
“Welcome, Captain Calderón, to my humble office. I trust that your voyage was pleasant?”
Raúl took the seat the governor offered him. “As pleasant as a months-long voyage can be on a ship. I really cannot complain, however. I was one of the lucky few who didn’t contract a debilitating stomach disease while on board.”
They chatted pleasantly for a few minutes. Raúl felt more haggard by the minute and wasn’t in the mood to chat overly-long. But he knew that the key to getting provisions was to have friends in high places, so he indulged the governor some reminiscing of his time in Madrid, and of common friends they knew in the military academy where they both had studied.
Finally, the governor mentioned the king’s letter. As Raúl sat there, watching the governor read the letter which he knew nothing of its sealed contents, he was startled by the governor’s next words.
“Impossible! This request is simply not possible to grant.”
Raúl bristled. No one turned down a king’s request. Not even a governor-general. “Why do you say that?”
“Do you not know what the letter asks?” When Raúl shook his head, Governor Raón handed him the paper.
Raúl scanned its contents and sat back, surprised at the governor’s response. The king’s mission seemed innocuous enough: to negotiate docking rights for the galleon from the “Last Princess.” He referred to the end
eavor as Raúl’s “chance for redemption” and respectfully asked that he be given provisions and aid in traveling to Gurian.
“You said, earlier, that this request is impossible to grant,” Raúl said. “Why is that?”
Governor Raón leaned back. “Why, that’s like asking for someone to arrange a voyage to hell!”
-End of Sample -
The Spanish Exile continues in The Last Princess,
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