Maria continued her sprint to safety until she reached the end of the long marble hallway which opened onto a broad balcony, looking over the manicured gardens of the Alhambra. Gasping, she clung to the railing, trying to catch her breath and regain her composure. By the time she finally began to feel calm, she felt strong arms wrap around her waist.

“Darling!”

A frightened whimper escaped her lips as the arms spun her around. Maria smiled with relief when she saw it was Rodney, still dressed as Gypsy with a Gypsy-style smile on his lips. She immediately kissed him. She would have run her fingers through his thick black hair but an elaborately colored scarf covered his head.

“Dearest!” she murmured in his ear.

“I’ve missed you so.” He tried to go in for another kiss but, Maria stepped away.

“Have you?” Her tone took on a definite Germanic interrogative style.

“Why, of course.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anyone else?” This question had more of an icy English inflection.

Rodney’s eyes went wide with innocence. “Only Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth!” Maria put her hands on her hips. “Aha! So there is another woman!” After a pause she added, “Elizabeth who?”

“Why, Queen Elizabeth, of course.”

“Oh. Of course.” She giggled like a proper English schoolgirl. “How silly of me.”

“Am I wrong, or do you think I’m seeing another woman?”

“Well, are you?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Maria cocked her head and returned to her Spanish inquisitive tone. “Why did you answer my question with a question?”

Poor Rodney was completely befuddled. “Have I given you any reason to doubt my love?”

“You did it again!”

Taking her back into his thick manly arms, he looked deeply into her eyes. “Believe this. Until the day I die there shall be no other woman for me. I love you and only you.”

***

Meanwhile, in another long hall of the Alhambra, Clarence crept along, trying to stay hidden in the shadows. Suddenly a door swung open hitting him square in the forehead. After he shook his head Clarence saw Lord Steppingstone standing before him with the most startled expression on his face.

“Clarence Flippertigibbit!”

“Lord Steppingstone!”

Flustered, Steppingstone stumbled about with his words before he was able to blurt out, “What are you doing here?”

Clarence lifted his tiny but well chiseled chin. “I might ask the same of you.”

“Why, I’m here trying to find out the identity of the traitor in Elizabeth’s court, of course.”

“Well, that’s what I’m doing here too.” Clarence looked at the lord askance, not quite believing him.

Steppingstone rubbed his hand across his lips. “Um, have you had any luck?”

“None so far….” Clarence puffed out his chest and stood toe to toe with the lord trying to be intimidating. “But I’m not giving up until I have the rascal in my grasp.”

Being a toad, as King Phillip called him, Steppingstone took a minor step back. “Then we shall work together.”

“Very good.” The young man still had his doubts but shook hands with the lord. He immediately regretted it because Steppingstone grip was more like a wet dishtowel.

“By the way,” the lord added as he withdrew his hand quickly, “how have you escaped capture?”

“Well, you might say I’m staying under wraps.” He absently wiped his hand on his breeches, as though to dry it. “And yourself?”

“Oh. Well.” He forced a weak smile. “I’ve inside help.”

“Ah. It’s best not to reveal operatives, right?”

“Um, correct. I think it best if we separate.”

“I agree.” The bastard’s lying to me, Clarence told himself, as he turned away. Going down another hall and descending a broad staircase, he found himself in the moonlit garden.

By mere happenstance, he tripped by the large water fountain and landed on the ground next to a dark figure.

“Clarence?” a small feminine voice whispered.

He squinted, trying to focus his eyes in the shadows. He recognized the petite Gypsy dancer from the dining hall earlier in the evening and realizing it wasn’t a Gypsy at all but his own beloved sweetheart.

“Alice! My darling!”

They clutched each other like two Chihuahuas in heat. When their passionate moans became too loud, a female voice with a pronounced French accent rang out from one of the upper chambers which opened on to the balcony overlooking the garden.

“Would someone throw some water on those two dogs? I kissing my boyfriend here!”

The outburst broke the spell and the couple sat up, breathing deeply.

“Alice! When did you decide on dancing career? And in King Phillip’s court!”

“I am not a dancer!” she protested.

“You can say that again,” he mumbled, hoping she did not understand him.

“I’m here to check—“ she stopped abruptly to amend her statement—“to help you.”

Clarence hugged his beloved. “But that’s dangerous!”

She stiffened. “It’s also dangerous to stay home while your fiancé spends his time among the dark-eyed beauties of Spain.”

“Surely you jest.” He tried comforting her again. “You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Well, sometimes I wonder.” She failed to hide the suspicion which tinged her voice.

“You cut me to the quick, darling.” Clarence realized he was sounding a bit whiney, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry, Clarence.” The whining seemed to have had a positive effect on her, however. “It’s just that I love you so. I suppose I’m being a silly goose.”

“And I love you all the more for it.” He successfully maneuvered her in for another kiss.

They paused before they became too noisy and looked up at the full moon.

“Look, Clarence darling, the moon is shining for our love and our love alone.”

***

Meanwhile on the balcony, Maria and Rodney came up for air from their kissing marathon. She sighed and lay her head on his chest, which was as broad as his shoulders. He looked up at the full moon.

“Look, Maria, the moon is so big and pretty.”

She grabbed his head with her strong hands and pulled it down to face. “And it shines only for us.”

***

Back in his private quarters Phillip wriggled about his king-sized bed with a naughty smile on his face.

“Tell me who the spy is, my dear, or I’ll subject you to my own inquisition.” He slowly opened his eyes to see Boniface leaning over him.

“Your Majesty?” the Englishman whispered.

Phillip screamed which caused Boniface to scream. In the distance the same female voice, this time with a thick German accent, bellowed, “It’s those two damn dogs again!”

The guard outside Phillip’s door rapped loudly. “Your Majesty?”

The King grabbed Boniface and stuffed him under the layers of sheets and blankets. “Quick! No one should know you’re here!”

The guard burst through the door with his sword drawn. “Sire! Where’s the danger?”

“It’s nothing.” He let go with an uncharacteristic laugh. “I just dreamed I had to make love to that Englishwoman.”

Putting his sword back in its scabbard, the guard replied, “Yes, Sire.”

“That would be a nightmare, wouldn’t it?” To enhance his perceived humor of the situation, Phillip slapped the bedcovers.

Unfortunately he happened to hit the boney bottom of Lord Boniface who showed remarkably restraint and did not move or moan.

“Yes, Sire,” the guard repeated with a dull air.

Realizing his laughter sounded terribly inauthentic, Phillip let it trail off in the cool night breeze. “You may leave now.”

The words had hardly left his skinny old lips before the guard began bowing and backing up at the same time. “Yes, Sire.” And he was out the door.

Phillip viciously kicked at Boniface’s form under the sheets. “Get up, get up, you fool!”

He rolled out of the bed onto the floor, whimpered slightly and stood and bowed in the same motion.

“What are you doing here?” Phillip was beginning to be annoyed by the stupidity of the English noblemen he had seduced into betraying their country.

(Author’s note: Historical records also do not reveal how Lord Boniface entered Spain at this particular time undetected. Birth announcements discovered in an isolated chapel in Andorra showed that a son born to an Englishman by the name of Boniface and a Basque peasant woman about twenty-five years before the invasion of the Armada. It could be possible that Boniface begged his Basque bastard to provide a boat for covert trips to the Alhambra. All of this is mere speculation because these characters are indeed fictional and difficult to find in history books.)

“There’s a spy in your court, your Majesty.”

Phillip harrumphed as he rolled out of bed and put on his lounging robe, which, by the way, was a gaudy gold trimmed in ermine dyed bright red. “Oh, that’s old news.” He looked at Boniface. Do you know who it is?”

“No, Sire.”

“That’s nothing new, either.” Phillip wrinkled his brow in thought. “By the way, what have I offered you to betray your country?”

“Wales, Sire,” Boniface replied as he bowed.

“Hmm, that’s sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place where. Oh well, you settled cheap if you asked me. Anyway, on to the business at hand. We must find this spy!”

“How will we discover his identity?”

The king stepped closer to the lord. “I have reason to believe Senor Vacacabeza’s ward knows. I have been unable to persuade her to tell; however, perhaps you will have more luck.”

“That would require revealing to her that I have actually pledged my loyalty to Spain. Would that be wise?”

Phillip entwined his fingers and smiled with pure evil intent. “She’ll never leave these shores again. It makes no difference what she knows.”