Disclaimers: Fireworks owns the copyrights to the characters from the Queen of Swords. The story plot and other characters are copyright to the author: Maril Swan
Rating: PG
Feedback: yes, please. Your comments and suggestions help keep me inspired to write these stories.

Note: the inspiration for this vignette comes from a conversation with Eliza who has inspired me many times over the past months. Thanks, Eliza.

The Escorial
by Maril Swan

Part One of Six

The Escorial
Madrid - 1813

"Marta, I"m scared. I don't want to go." Tessa sat on the edge of her bed as Marta looked critically over the gowns in the wardrobe. Squaring her shoulders and drawing in a deep breath, Marta turned to face the young girl.

"You do not have any choice, Tessa. You have been summoned to the Royal Court. You cannot refuse." Trying to put a brave face on it, Marta continued, "It will be so glamourous ...all those nobles, all those parties, and being so close to the King and Queen. I am sure you will enjoy your time at Court."

Tessa's dark eyes narrowed as she gazed fixedly at Marta. "You've never lied to me before, Marta. Don't start now. You know I'll hate it, every minute of it," she said petulantly. Tessa arose from her bed and began to roam around the room. "Maybe we could say I have something contagious, or that I left the country. Why don't we just run away and stay with your people?" She searched Marta's face as if looking for some elusive chance of escaping this fate which the letter from the Royal Court had thrust upon her.

The forlorn hope in her voice stabbed Marta to the heart. She was afraid for her Tessa, only eighteen years old, among those decadent and immoral people that she had heard the servants whisper about. Tessa was strong-willed, but impetuous and impressionable. How long until she succumbed to the influences that would surround her daily? Was she strong enough to resist the pleasures and temptations that could so easily seduce the innocent? Marta had instilled in Tessa many lessons on morals and ethics during their time together. Now that knowledge would be put to the test. 'Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers,' she thought hopefully.

"I will be with you, Tessa," Marta added at last. "And it may not be for long. The King and Queen may decide to spend their summer near Barcelona, and then you will be free to leave. Or so I have heard."

"What do you know about it, Marta? The gossip of servants? What do they know? Have they ever been to the Escorial?" Tessa demanded indignantly. An exasperated sigh escaped her as she dropped once more onto her bed and held her head in her hands. "If only Papa had taken me back to California, I wouldn't have to do this."

Marta turned away to hide her expression. It was not her father but her uncle, Don Alejandro, who had arranged for Tessa to be presented at Court. Such splendid connections for her, such an opportunity to mix with the right sort of people. Marta shook her head sombrely. Such an opportunity to become like them and lose her innocence. Her stomach clenched at the thought that they must arrive at the Escorial in three days with all their baggage, prepared for as long a stay as the royal couple demanded.

*********

The reception line seemed endless as Tessa moved forward gradually toward the King and Queen of Spain. The air in the colourful salon was filled with chatter and noise. The excitement was almost palpable as the new season at Court got underway with an influx of debutantes like Tessa filling the long queue, waiting to be presented to their monarchs. Her uncle stood beside her, occasionally beaming a fond smile at her as she quaked with nervousness. Now and then, he pressed her arm for reassurance.

Tessa searched the crowd at the end of the hall for Marta. She saw her in the midst of the servants and smiled half-heartedly then turned as the line inched forward.

Finally, they were next to be presented. Tessa's mouth was dry from fear. She was wearing the pink organza dress that Marta had picked out for her. Tessa suspected it was to make her look younger and more ingenuous. She nearly smiled at this thought as she swallowed and tried to moisten her parched throat.

The King sat on his ancient throne, resplendent in his royal robes. Through bored heavy-lidded eyes he watched the procession of young men and women parade past, no doubt forgetting their names immediately. Next to him, the Queen posed, equally elegant in her royal finery, regarding everything with a keen eye as each person was introduced. Tessa had a feeling she forgot nothing.

Her uncle said, "May I present to Your Majesties, my niece, Doña Maria Teresa Alvarado of Alta California." He gave her a subtle nudge to move in front of the royal couple. Tessa curtseyed, lowering her eyes.

"Such a lovely dress, and such a fair señorita wearing it. If I had known they grew such beauty in California, I would have gone there myself" King Ferdinand joked. He guffawed loudly, sounding like the neighing of a horse and his courtiers laughed with him. The Queen's face stiffened and she gave Tessa a haughty look.

"Tell me, Doña Maria Teresa, are you betrothed? I have no doubt, there are many young admirers here already who would love to snap you up." He gestured broadly around the salon.

Tessa lifted her chin and replied pertly, "Perhaps I have no wish to be snapped up, Your Majesty." She closed her mouth quickly, her cheeks heating as she watched the King's eyebrows shoot up.

For a long moment there was silence, then the King laughed again. "Such impudence they learn in the colonies. We will make it our business to see that no one snaps you up, my dear." His gaze moved past her to the next in line and she felt dismissed. 'Maybe,' she hoped, 'I have displeased him and he will send me away.'

Beside her, Uncle Alejandro tightened his grip on her arm to lead her to a more private spot, away from the clamour near the King and Queen. His face was tight with anger, as he leaned down to whisper harshly in her ear, "What were you thinking, Tessa, to speak to the King that way? This is no way to begin at Court. You will have to try harder to make yourself agreeable to their Majesties."

"Uncle, I did not want to be here in the first place. I just want to go home."

The shock on his face caused Tessa to lower her gaze. He could not understand that she did not value making connections at Court, or being among the favourites of the King and Queen. She only wanted to go back to California. Why must he insist on this when she did not want it?

Alejandro suddenly glanced at the King, and he groaned quietly. The King was beckoning to him. Her uncle looked her sternly in the eyes, and said, "Remain here and stay out of trouble. I must see what His Majesty wants." With that he threaded his way through the elegant crowd to the King's side.

Tessa watched her uncle lean toward the King, then cringed inwardly as they both glanced directly at her. The urge to flee nearly overcame her as she looked around, but her escape would be noticed if she tried to make it to the exit at the far end of the long salon. How she wished she was anywhere but here.

"If you are going through Hell, keep on going," a voice behind her said.

Tessa turned to gaze into a grinning, handsome face. A tall young man clad in a military tunic smiled down at her, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I heard what you said to the King," he laughed. "You were not being impudent, His Majesty was. Brava. You will do well here at Court as long as you remain yourself."

Alejandro returned and the young man bowed briefly to him and moved toward a large group of young people collected near the frescoed walls of the salon. Tessa watched him as he strode with athletic grace to greet his friends.

Her uncle took her arm to lead her down the salon to where Marta was waiting. Tessa felt butterflies in her stomach as she waited for him to tell her what the King had said.

Finally, he stopped and said, "The King was amused by your remark and your spirit. Her Majesty invites you to join her royal coterie as a lady-in-waiting." He grinned proudly as he conveyed this marvellous news.

Tessa's heart sank. She pasted a false smile on her face as she glanced toward the royal couple, and curtseyed politely. "How long am I to remain with the Queen?" she asked, forcing some heartiness into her voice. It seemed like a jail sentence to her, rather than a privilege.

"A year, more or less ...until the next crop of debutantes are presented. Tessa!" Alejandro said enthusiastically, "This is your best chance to meet someone suitable and make a good marriage. With your father away in California, it is my duty to see that his wishes are carried out. He wants you to marry before you return to California as he says there are few eligible men there and not much choice for you. We are only thinking of your future happiness, mi querida." He lifted her hand and kissed it fondly.

He pointed toward a group of young women standing a short distance from the Queen's throne. "Those are her ladies-in-waiting. They will help you settle into your new surroundings. You must go and join them." He nodded to Marta, and gave Tessa a kiss on the cheek and a slight push toward the group.

Tessa clutched Marta's arm as they took their leave of her uncle and walked slowly together toward her new life at the Spanish Court.

Chapter 2
Out with the Old, In with the New

The room was stifling, airless and Tessa felt her eyelids drooping as one of the ladies-in-waiting droned on in a monotone, reading to the Queen from a novel. Tessa's head snapped up when she heard her name called.

"Maria Teresa," the Queen said sharply. "You will read us the next chapter."

The young woman who had been reading gave Tessa a look of relief as she handed over the large leather-bound book. It was written in French. The previous reader, Juliana, pointed to the paragraph where she had left off. Tessa felt a moment of panic. It had been years since her French tutor had drilled the pronunciations of that language into her head. He had fled back to France during the war leaving Tessa to struggle on her own. She had abandoned the difficult tongue, preferring to learn the Romani language of the gitano from Marta.

Tessa inhaled deeply to calm herself and began, haltingly at first, then with more confidence as the language came back to her. Her cheeks suddenly flushed as she realized she was starting to read a long narrative which described, in very graphic detail, a couple making love. She decided to skip over that section and moved on to the next page.

"You have missed a part, Maria Teresa," the Queen said, a smirk on her thin rouged lips. "If you leave parts out, you spoil the story." Several giggles from the other young woman accompanied this remark causing Tessa to suspect she was being used for the Queen's amusement.

Her cheeks grew hotter as she went back to the descriptive sexual scene and tried to read without stumbling over the words. Never in her life had she read anything like this. She could not imagine anyone putting these words on paper for others to read. Tessa thought in relief it was fortunate that Marta was not in the room. What would she say? A quick glance at the Queen and the others showed they were enjoying the vivid, sensual images. Or was it just her discomfort they were enjoying?

Anger overcame her sensibility and Tessa began to dramatize the scene with different voices and inflections, almost as if she was reading a play and taking the parts. Ignoring what she was reading, Tessa performed with exaggerated sighs and sounds. Finally, reaching the end of the scene, she put her hand to her forehead dramatically, and whispered, "Oh, Jean-Pierre, you have made a woman of me at last!"

When she looked up, she saw the other young women gaping at her in stunned silence. Risking a glance at the Queen, she met a pair of wide surprised eyes. Suddenly, the silence was broken by loud applause.

"Brava!" said Queen Maria Cristina, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "You will do the reading from now on, Maria Teresa. The others put me to sleep." Maria Cristina laughed as she gestured dismissively at the other ladies-in-waiting, several of whom lowered their eyes with a hurt look.

Tessa put a woven bookmark in the leaves and closed the heavy volume, placing it on a nearby table. "Gracias, Your Majesty," she said as she attempted to put a delighted smile on her face. "I am glad my efforts have pleased you."

"You would please me more if you got rid of that Gypsy woman and employed a good Spanish servant," Maria Cristina said, her sharp dark eyes stabbing at Tessa with sudden ferocity.

Tessa opened her mouth to protest, then glanced around at the amused looks on the other girls' faces. Was the Queen baiting her into making an imprudent remark, something that would be gossiped about in the halls for days? Or was she serious about sending Marta away?

They had only been living at the palace for a few weeks. The novelty had not worn off as the two women roamed the halls of the great Monasterio de San Lorenzo de El Escorial. At every turning, there were paintings and frescoes to admire, life-sized statuary gracing every nook and cranny. Outside, the gardens were lush and green, offering long meandering walks and quiet places for reflection. Whenever Queen Maria Cristina allowed her to leave, Tessa would seek out Marta and they would explore their new surroundings.

To Tessa, it was a wonderland of beauty. To Marta, it was evidence of the decadence and waste of the ruling class, though she grudgingly admitted that the Escorial housed many priceless pieces of art. But as she said, "the people who worked to pay for it are not allowed to enjoy it. Only the rich and idle are invited here."

Tessa tried to keep Marta apart as much as possible from the life of the palace, knowing her feelings on the indolent nobility. There were times when her duenna's presence was demanded and Marta was forced to watch as sumptuous meals were served to elegantly-dressed guests seated at the long dining tables. Course after course of rich foods were offered to jaded palates, many times being taken and left untouched on the plates. Marta always fumed at Tessa after these feasts about the waste of food that could have fed hungry and starving people instead fattening the already over- indulged stomachs of these patricians.

Tessa wondered now as the Queen awaited her answer, if Marta had let slip to one of the servants her radical views on the great gap between the rich and poor of Spain. The Constitution of Cadiz had contained many liberal ideas of the type that Marta espoused. Would Marta have been so indiscreet as to have spoken freely to anyone about her beliefs? Such sentiments in the present political climate could cause her to be exiled or imprisoned.

"Your Majesty," Tessa said, arising and trying to keep her voice level. "Marta is not a servant; she is my guardian and duenna. I will see about getting a servant to take care of my personal needs while I am here."

Maria Cristina smiled slyly. She obviously sensed a little excitement, a break from the monotony of her daily routine. "Your guardian, Maria Teresa? What were your parents thinking of, having a heathen Gypsy as a guardian for you? What has she been teaching you — black magic, the casting of spells?" Maria Cristina laughed, a harsh wheezing sound and the other young women joined her in a chorus of restrained laughter. She wagged her ring-encrusted finger at Tessa with a shrewd look. "It is providential for you that you came to us when you did, Maria Teresa. Here, you will learn to be a lady. We may make something of you yet."

********

When Queen Maria Cristina finally released her from her chamber, Tessa was in fine temper. She could not face Marta right now. Marta was too perceptive and would elicit the reason for Tessa's distressed expression in no time. Tessa could seldom keep secrets from her. Instead, she wandered through the wide corridors of the palace, seeking the one place where she could forget her troubles for a while — the great library of the Escorial.

Entering from a side door, she was entranced once again by the colourful frescoes that covered the arched ceiling and walls. A warm light from the clerestory windows shone down on the grey marble floor. It illumined the old wood of the carved bookcases and the gilt on the ancient volumes inside their glass doors.

Tessa breathed deeply. The air was redolent of musty old books and the warm scent of beeswax. Here and there, servants polished the bookcases and glass, effacing themselves and avoiding her glance when she smiled at them. Her attention was caught by the huge brass astrolabe in the centre of the library. The elaborate sphere was supported on the heads of four seated brass figures. She meandered past the astrolabe to the glass cases containing old manuscripts on display but kept securely locked away from intrusive hands.

Leaning closer, Tessa examined the beautiful illuminations of the letters and margins, and read the Latin script written so many centuries before. A sense of awe swept over her as she thought of those pious monks and nuns spending their whole lives painstakingly copying the same manuscripts over and over. She shook her head. It was certainly a different era — people had more time to indulge in such meticulous work back then.

She moved on to the printed books protected behind the glass doors of the bookcases. Hundreds of rare first editions, ancient tomes of philosophy and science — so many books that no one could read them in a lifetime of study. In the centre of the library, she stopped to look up at the trompe l'oeil frescoes adorning the ceiling. They were so realistic, Tessa almost felt herself floating as she gazed at the foreshortened figures ascending to a painted azure heaven.

A hand at her back caught her as she nearly fell over from looking up at the dizzying array of paintings. Turning quickly, she confronted a familiar pair of amused eyes. She recognized him from that first day when he had spoken to her in the grand salon.

"The best way to study the paintings is to lie on your back," he jested. "That way you won't fall over." He took her hand and pressed it to his lips warmly, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "I am Baltasar de Valenciaga, Capitan of the Escorial guards. I won't bore you with the rest of my titles. And I already know who you are, Maria Teresa Alvarado." His lips twitched into a roguish smile as he added, "I understand you like to read. However, perhaps these books are more to your taste."

Tessa turned away abruptly with a soft groan. "Madre mio. How did you hear about that so quickly?"

Baltasar laughed. "My sister, Juliana, is also one of the Queen's ladies. She told me." He took Tessa's arm and turned her to face him. "I knew when we met that you were different. I'm only beginning to know how different." A mock-serious expression crossed his face and he added, "Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?" His words caused a strange flutter in her stomach and she knew her cheeks were glowing with warmth at his sudden change of sentiment. For a moment, Tessa was unable to frame a coherent or witty response to his seemingly casual remark. Finally, she stammered, "I am betrothed, Capitan." Silently, she berated herself for such an inane response. He was just being flirtatious. Nothing was meant by his remark. 'He must think I'm a witless child to take his banter seriously,' Tessa thought.

He looked crestfallen, his handsome features assumed a doleful look. "You have broken my heart, Marie Teresa. Who is this lucky fellow who has already staked his claim on you?"

An image of Antonio rose up in her mind — a sword in his hand, duelling for his family's honour. When he had defeated the opponent with first blood and turned away, the blackguard had attacked him, trying to stab Antonio in the back. Tessa had warned Antonio just in time and he ran the fellow through with his sword. The sudden violence and death had upset Tessa greatly, but Marta even more so. She turned against Antonio, forbidding Tessa to see him. So Tessa had met him secretly when she could, their trysts exciting and romantic, their stolen kisses passionate with forbidden desire.

Baltasar was looking at her strangely, then he smiled a little sadly. "He really is a lucky fellow, to make your cheeks warm so." He bowed gallantly making the short cape of his uniform slide across his broad shoulder. "When is wedding, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Tessa was flustered. She was not used to such forwardness in being asked to discuss her private affairs with a near stranger. With a haughty raise of her chin, she replied, "I do not see that it is any of your business, Capitan." She turned toward the library door and took a step when Baltasar restrained her with a light touch on her arm.

"She will have to go, you know." His blue eyes studied her, looking for understanding of his statement. "When the Queen utters such a remark, it is not a suggestion, it is a command."

A rush of anger filled her at his impertinence. Who did he think he was, meddling in her life? Tessa recognized the truth of his comment and that made her angrier still. She was not ready to cope with this problem yet. She hoped put it off for a while but he was forcing a decision upon her.

Tessa snapped, "Is there nothing that goes on in this place, that is not instantly known to everyone? I might as well live in a fishbowl for all the privacy I have here."

Baltasar laughed and stroked his coppery coloured beard. "You had better get used to it. There is no such thing as a secret in the Escorial." The smile disappeared almost abruptly and he said, "Your Gypsy woman is out of place here. What do you think her life is like amongst us? When you are off at a picnic or a ride around the grounds, what do you think she is putting up with? While you are in the Queen's chamber, where is the Gypsy woman? What is she doing?"

His eyes were soft with sympathy and Tessa looked away. She felt guilty and heartsick for Marta. He was right. She had been selfish, wanting to keep Marta with her when her life here was so miserable.

Seeming to sense her inner turmoil, he took her hand again. "I think you have a tender heart, Señorita Alvarado. You will do the right thing." He kissed the back of her hand and pressed it gently to his tunic. "Since I cannot win your hand, perhaps we could become friends. I sense in you a kindred spirit, someone I would like to know better."

Once again her stomach fluttered oddly, and she had the urge to flee from his disturbing presence. "I would like that very much, Capitan Valenciaga," she answered carefully.

"You could also do me a favour, señorita." He regarded her seriously while still holding her hand. "My sister, Juliana, is a timid girl. She was raised most of her life in a convent and is very much out of her depth among these sophisticated people in the Court. She needs a friend, someone like you with strength and confidence."

Tessa was surprised to hear herself described that way. Strength and confidence? Was that how others saw her? The flattery warmed her, buoyed her spirits. Overcoming her diffidence, she said, "Of course I will. Juliana is already a friend. You had no need to ask me. But I will look out for her as the other ladies are sometimes cruel." Tessa closed her mouth quickly as if she had said too much but Baltasar just nodded in agreement. Juliana must have told him of the pettiness and snide comments she and Juliana endured.

"Now, Capitan Valenciaga, I must go and see Marta. We must talk over what to do. It is her decision too." With that, Tessa hurried from the library, determined to leave it to Marta whether she would stay or go.

Arriving in her apartment, Tessa experienced a sudden chill. The place seemed empty, cold. As she moved from the sitting room into her bedroom, then to her dressing-room, she knew Marta was no longer there. She could sense it. A note propped on her pillow confirmed her fear. Without opening the letter, Tessa knew what it contained as she picked it up and studied the familiar handwriting.

It seemed as if an abyss had suddenly opened up before her and she stood on the brink. She felt truly alone for the first time in her life. She sat heavily on the edge of her bed with the unopened note and blinked back the tears. Strength and confidence. That was what Baltasar had said of her. She would show that strength and get through this somehow. Without Marta — her anchor and her support.

Continued in Part Two of 6