Bessie’s Boys Chapter 20

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.

The full moon streamed broad beams through the tall windows of the Great Hall, filling the cavernous cheek bones of King Phillip who lounged on his throne as two guards escorted Maria through the massive wooden doors.  After positioning her before the King, the guards bowed and exited, their boots clicking on the marble floor.  Silence engulfed the huge room, creating a sense of eerie anxiety.

“Come closer!” Phillip commanded, his thin thrill voice ringing through the rafters.

Si, your Majesty.”  Maria curtsied but only took one or two steps.

“Closer!”

With a determined sigh, she walked so near to the King she saw his sallow complexion, and her impulse was to step back but her better judgment advised against it.  “As you wish,” she replied in perfection Spanish compliance.

“I have a few questions for you.”  A silky intimidation clouded his tone.

“I shall try to be helpful.”

Phillip clasped his hands in front of his thin lips.  “I’ve just received some disturbing news.”

“Really?” Maria felt her heart begin to throb.

“There’s a spy in my court.”  He paused to allow the implications of this information to sink into her mind.  “And this spy is from England.”

“Really?”  Inquisition phobia limited her vocabulary.

The King leaned forward.  “Are you that spy?”

Nein, mein herr!”  Maria was so scared she slipped into her German accent without losing a goose step.

“What!?”

Her female instincts told her to begin a delaying tactic while her brain went hay-wired trying to think of a defense.  She fluttered her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, Your Majesty!”  Her perfect Spanish dialect snapped back.  “You’re making me nervous!”

He shook a boney finger at her.  “I’ll make you more than nervous if I don’t get some answers!”

Crossing herself, Maria declared, “I swear I’m not a spy!”

“And why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you don’t trust anyone?”  Her Spanish voice became small and shy.

“No!” he barked. “Because you think that Englishwoman is gracious!”

“Gracious me.  I was just being polite.”  Maria’s right hand went to her bosom.

“Then who do you think the spy is?”  His follow-up question was so quick and on-topic that any law professor would give him high marks for harassment. 

“What makes you think I’d know something like that?”  Her eyes began to flutter again.  “I’m the ward of an ambassador.”

Phillip narrowed his beady little eyes.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

Her heart thumped like a bunny’s foot.  “Would you trust the ward of the English ambassador with such important information?”

“Of course not!”  He waved his hand to dismiss the thought.

“See?”

(Author’s note:  This part of the conversation confused Phillip very much because he didn’t know if she was saying yes in Spanish or the word see, meaning to understand, in English spoken with a Spanish accent.  Eventually he decided to jump ahead to the next point he wanted to make in his interrogation.)

“But I don’t trust anyone!”

Maria smiled, appreciating the fact she had befuddled her inquisitor.  “So you’ve said.”

“You still haven’t given me a yes or no answer to my question.”  Clearly not accustomed to losing control of a conversation, the King stood and stretched to the full extent of his puny height.

“And which question was that, Sire?” she tried to extend her advantage.

“You know very well what question!  Do you know who the spy is?”

“Do you mean know in the Biblical sense?”  Maria was getting way too filled with herself.

“I’m getting tired of your evasions.  You have until tomorrow morning to reflect on your answer.”

Si, Sire.”

“You may leave now.”

Gracias.”  Maria began to back up.

“And as you’re reflecting, think of one word, Senorita.”

She stopped.  “And what word is that?”

“Inquisition.”

Maria forgot protocol, turned and ran for the door, muttering in proper English, “Egad.”

The full moon streamed broad beams through the tall windows of the Great Hall, filling the cavernous cheek bones of King Phillip who lounged on his throne as two guards escorted Maria through the massive wooden doors.  After positioning her before the King, the guards bowed and exited, their boots clicking on the marble floor.  Silence engulfed the huge room, creating a sense of eerie anxiety.

“Come closer!” Phillip commanded, his thin thrill voice ringing through the rafters.

Si, your Majesty.”  Maria curtsied but only took one or two steps.

“Closer!”

With a determined sigh, she walked so near to the King she saw his sallow complexion, and her impulse was to step back but her better judgment advised against it.  “As you wish,” she replied in perfection Spanish compliance.

“I have a few questions for you.”  A silky intimidation clouded his tone.

“I shall try to be helpful.”

Phillip clasped his hands in front of his thin lips.  “I’ve just received some disturbing news.”

“Really?” Maria felt her heart begin to throb.

“There’s a spy in my court.”  He paused to allow the implications of this information to sink into her mind.  “And this spy is from England.”

“Really?”  Inquisition phobia limited her vocabulary.

The King leaned forward.  “Are you that spy?”

Nein, mein herr!”  Maria was so scared she slipped into her German accent without losing a goose step.

“What!?”

Her female instincts told her to begin a delaying tactic while her brain went hay-wired trying to think of a defense.  She fluttered her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, Your Majesty!”  Her perfect Spanish dialect snapped back.  “You’re making me nervous!”

He shook a boney finger at her.  “I’ll make you more than nervous if I don’t get some answers!”

Crossing herself, Maria declared, “I swear I’m not a spy!”

“And why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you don’t trust anyone?”  Her Spanish voice became small and shy.

“No!” he barked. “Because you think that Englishwoman is gracious!”

“Gracious me.  I was just being polite.”  Maria’s right hand went to her bosom.

“Then who do you think the spy is?”  His follow-up question was so quick and on-topic that any law professor would give him high marks for harassment. 

“What makes you think I’d know something like that?”  Her eyes began to flutter again.  “I’m the ward of an ambassador.”

Phillip narrowed his beady little eyes.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

Her heart thumped like a bunny’s foot.  “Would you trust the ward of the English ambassador with such important information?”

“Of course not!”  He waved his hand to dismiss the thought.

“See?”

(Author’s note:  This part of the conversation confused Phillip very much because he didn’t know if she was saying yes in Spanish or the word see, meaning to understand, in English spoken with a Spanish accent.  Eventually he decided to jump ahead to the next point he wanted to make in his interrogation.)

“But I don’t trust anyone!”

Maria smiled, appreciating the fact she had befuddled her inquisitor.  “So you’ve said.”

“You still haven’t given me a yes or no answer to my question.”  Clearly not accustomed to losing control of a conversation, the King stood and stretched to the full extent of his puny height.

“And which question was that, Sire?” she tried to extend her advantage.

“You know very well what question!  Do you know who the spy is?”

“Do you mean know in the Biblical sense?”  Maria was getting way too filled with herself.

“I’m getting tired of your evasions.  You have until tomorrow morning to reflect on your answer.”

Si, Sire.”

“You may leave now.”

Gracias.”  Maria began to back up.

“And as you’re reflecting, think of one word, Senorita.”

She stopped.  “And what word is that?”

“Inquisition.”

Maria forgot protocol, turned and ran for the door, muttering in proper English, “Egad.”

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