Bessie’s Boys Chapter Nineteen

Previously: England awaits the Spanish invasion. Elizabeth orders two of her young heros to Spain on a mission. Each one has a beautiful but jealous lover.

King Phillip rapped his boney fingers on the mahogany council table in his private quarters.  The last person he expected the see in the Alhambra banquet hall was Lord Steppingstone, one of his key operatives in the court of Queen Elizabeth.  The King ordered his English spy never to visit Spain.  If his secret agent were caught, the outcome of the Armada invasion would be jeopardized.  He looked up when he heard the door creak open. 

Steppingstone slithered in; his shoulders were hunched in complete abeyance, and he crept toward the King.

“What are you doing here?” Phillip demanded as he stood, slamming his hand on the table.  He winced when he realized the impact sent shock waves from his fingers all the way up to his shoulders.

(Author’s note:  Historical records do not show that Lord Steppingstone crossed the English Channel in the time frame immediately before the invasion of the Spanish Armada.  However, some genealogists point out Steppingstone had a second cousin on his mother’s side who left English under mysterious circumstances in the early years of Elizabeth’s reign.  The cousin changed his English given name of Frederick to Fredo when he established a shop in northern Portugal where he unsuccessfully tried to sell bagpipes to the local musical arts community.  Fredo then turned to fishing as his vocation.  It is possible Steppingstone entered Spain by way of his second cousin’s fishing boat.) 

“Elizabeth suspects a spy in the court, and has sent someone to Spain to discover his identity.”  Steppingstone kept his eyes down.

“See!”  The king shook his aching fingers at his English agent.  “I told you Elizabeth couldn’t be trusted!”

Steppingstone bowed.  “Yes, Sire.  I agree.”

“You would, you toad,” Phillip replied with a sneer.  “What have I promised you for betraying your own country?”

“Only Wales, your Majesty.”  He bowed again.

The Spanish ruler snorted.  “You sold out cheap, if you ask me.”

“I have simple needs, Sire.” 

Steppingstone bowed again, which was getting on Phillip’s last nerve.  The King overcame an urge to slap him, only because he needed further information from the toad.  “Who is this spy Elizabeth has sent to my court to discover the identity of my spy?”

“I don’t know.”

He was in mid-bow when the King erupted, “Stop all that bowing, you idiot!”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Do you think it could be Maria de Horenhausen?”

“I doubt it.”

Phillip scratched his wispy beard.  “I don’t know.  She actually had something nice to say about that Englishwoman.”

“Being polite is not necessarily a sign of treason, your Majesty.”

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, “It can be in Spain.”

***

At that very moment Maria, with Clarence under her dress, entered the Alhambra kitchen.  It was a dark, dank space, lit only by huge fireplace flames.  The cooks and the servers were too busy sneezing on the food and wiping their noses on their rancid sleeves to notice the beautiful senorita lingering around the table with stacks of breads and rolls. 

In her English accent, she whispered, “We’re here.”

“Good.  I’m famished,” came from under the folds of her elegant gown.

“Hurry.”  She furrowed her beautiful brow.  “It will look suspicious if I’m caught lingering in the kitchen.”

“I’ll grab a loaf of bread and be right back,” he assured her as he scampered from beneath her hems, crawling like a frightened cockroach around the table.

“Not a long loaf!” she admonished him with very proper English concerns for her personal comfort.  She jumped when she felt a heavy tap on her shoulder.  When she turned, Maria saw glaring at her four grim guards with nasty long spears.

“Miss de Horenhausen, his Majesty King Phillip commands your presence immediately.”  Though the commander of the small corps spoke perfect Castilian, he did have a stern German air about him.

“But I—“

“Now, Miss de Horenhausen,” he snapped.

Maria bowed and complied in her best Spanish, “Si.

The guards surrounded her and marched out of the kitchen just as Clarence crawled back around the table.  He stopped to watch them disappear in the darkness.

“Oh drat,” Clarence muttered as he nibbled on a loaf.  He frowned at it.  “Stale.”

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