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.

One must remember that the Alhambra was considered a remarkable structure for its time and had more stairs, hallways, alcoves and courtyards than truly needed.  Along another one of its superfluous halls Rodney encountered Lord Boniface.

“Your Lordship!  What are you doing here?”

 “Ssh!  I’m on a secret mission for Queen Elizabeth!”

(Author’s note:  Boniface produced this lie with such spontaneous sincerity to lead the reader to believe that he must have had years of experience in theatre but this was not true.  Actors really have to work hard to evince a worthy pace of delivery.  Boniface was a breed apart from an actor.  He was a politician.)

Rodney fell into one of his frequent confusions.  “Funny.  I didn’t know that.”

“If you did, then it wouldn’t be a secret mission, would it now?”  In addition to his alacrity, Boniface was artful in the skills of debate.

“I guess that makes sense.”

Boniface put a finger to his lips and raised an eyebrow.  “I presume you’re here on a secret mission also.”

“That’s right,” Rodney replied.  “I’m trying to find out who the spy is.”

“Any luck?”

“Not a clue.”

“Good—I mean, perhaps we can work together.”

A shadow of suspicion crossed Rodney’s handsome face.  “Sorry, I always work alone.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well.”  Boniface smiled.  “Good luck.”

Quite by chance, Maria turned a corner onto the self-same hall where Rodney and Boniface confabbed.  With careful steps, for she still had Clarence between her legs, Maria approached them.  Rodney saw her and smiled.

“Yes, it’s important that—that….”  Lust clouded his concentration.  “What were we talking about?”

“Finding the spy,” Boniface replied with thinly disguised disgust.

“Oh, that’s right.  It’s important that one of us succeed.  After all, it’s for England.”

“Yes, for England.”  His Lordship hardly contained his urge to roll his eyes.

“This other Eden, demi-paradise, this royal throne of kings, this sculptured isle—“

“Sceptered!  Sceptered!” Clarence shrieked from beneath Maria’s skirts.

“Is there an echo in here?” Boniface asked.

“Oh yes,” Maria replied in her most proper Spanish accent.  “The Alhambra is known for its echoes.”

Boniface shrugged.  “It makes no difference.”  He glanced at Rodney.  “Perhaps it would be best if you beat a hasty retreat.”

“Beat who?”  Poor Rodney was lost again.

“A hasty retreat,” Boniface repeated.

“Oh.  You mean I should get out of here?”

“Correct.”  Boniface tapped his foot.

“As you say.”  Rodney bowed.  Despite his lack of cogency, he excelled in courtly behavior.  He turned and repeated the bow to Maria.  “Miss.”  Rodney looked left and right before darting in a hitherto unnoticed direction.

Boniface took Maria by the elbow.  “Miss de Horenhausen, perhaps we could have a private conversation.”

Before she could reply, he guided her to the first door down the hall, causing her to trip over the little man under her dress.

“Not so fast,” Clarence whispered.

“Not so fast,” Maria repeated and then giggled.  “There goes that echo again.”

Boniface opened the door, stepped aside so that Maria (and Clarence under her dress) could enter.  He followed them into the room and carefully shut the door behind him.

“What lovely furnishings, don’t you think?” he asked as charmingly as he possibly could fabricate.  “I just love Spanish décor, don’t you—okay, enough small talk—who’s the spy?”

“What?”  Maria fluttered her dark Spanish eyelashes.

“King Phillip asked me to make you tell who the spy is.”

“Traitor!”  She quit fluttering and raised her perky English chin.

“That’s right.”  He approached her menacingly.  “I want the name of the traitor to the Spanish crown.”

“No!” she replied in strident English tones.  “You are the traitor to Elizabeth!”

“Well, it depends on your point of view,” he said, exercising his extraordinary debate skills.

“Any way I view it, you’re despicable!”

Boniface moved close to our multi-national heroine.  “Not as despicable as I could be if you don’t tell me the name of the spy in King Phillip’s court.”

Clarence could not contain his outrage any longer.  He charged out of the front of Maria’s dress and stood, taking a Marquis de Queensbury stance.

“Leave this child alone, or I’ll box your ears silly!”

“Clarence Flippertigibbit!” his Lordship gasped, “I thought you were dead!”

(Author’s note:  It gets a little complicated here.  Steppingtone had already convinced Clarence that he was not the spy.  So it is reasonable for Clarence to assume the second English Lord he ran into in Spain had to be the spy.)

“Ha ha!  Fooled you!”  Clarence took aggressive steps toward Boniface.  “Back up or risk the consequences of two black eyes!”

The older man smirked.  “You’re too short.  You could not reach my head.”

Clarence set his jaw in determination.  “Then I shall have to aim lower.”

Boniface backed up and covered his crotch.  “Never mind.”

Clarence grabbed Maria’s hand and ran for the door.  “Let’s get out of here!”