Madrid is stifling in the summer. The city bakes in the sun until it becomes intolerably hot and intolerably sticky. It's as hot in my home town of Cadiz, but there's always a breeze from the ocean. There's nothing like that in Madrid, only heat, dust and the stench of stale sweat. It's not fit for a dog, much less a lady. This is why the entire court moves to El Escorial in July. El Escorial is the royal retreat north of the city and up in the hills. It's much more pleasant there. The hills are beautiful and there's always a breeze blowing through the pines. It smells heavenly. I love it even more than I love Cadiz. Sometimes I wish it were always summer and I was always in El Escorial.
I've come here for several years now by personal invitation of the king. I hardly require a formal invitation, but he is always so considerate. Even with his favor I'm not welcome in polite society. I do not have an official position in the court and the great ladies look down on me. Even so my apartments are among the finest in the complex. They are beautiful, large and spacious. All those pretentious bitches don't have half as nice a suite as I do. It serves them right. My apartments even have a patio right beneath the pine trees. In the morning I gather with my girlfriends Juana and Maria to gossip over chocolate and bread.
"It's so nice to be back here," said Maria. "The Madrid sun was ruining my complexion. That never happens to you, Alejandra."
This is a common complaint of most of the women here. I'm not sure if they think I should be delighted that I don't turn the color of a lobster after spending a day in the summer sun. Still Maria has always been kind to me, almost like a mother, so I'd never mouth off to her. "My curls get tighter," I said. They become unmanageable in Madrid. It's not much better here; my maid has to work an hour every morning to give my hair any sort of style.
"That's hardly a trial. You gypsies have all the luck," said Juana. I'm not a gypsy; my family was Moriscos back in the time of Isabella and Ferdinand. Gypsy sounds cuter, though, and being called a Morisco could still land you in trouble with the Inquisition. It's nonsense; imagine me backsliding after two centuries and all so I could be one of four wives. The Inquisition doesn't see it that way, which is why Juana calls me a gypsy. A dark complexion is a rarity among the nobles, and when I'm not dressed in my finery I'm often mistaken for a servant. "Is it true that the Queen has come this year?" she asked.
"Finally after two years," I said.
"You must be heartbroken," said Maria. She's the mistress of Cardinal Ximez. She has been with the cardinal for a long time, they have four children together. The cardinal is absolutely faithful to her; he never even sleeps with the maids. Maria talks and thinks more like a burgher's wife than any sort of mistress.
"Philippe is inexhaustible," I said. The king was raised at Versailles and still insists on being called by his French name. "He'll find time for me." He's found time for chamber maids, and more than a couple woman of the court who wanted to replace me.
"It's hard to see them spend time with their wives," said Juana. She's the mistress of the count of Orgaz. "I feel terrible to be jealous of her; after all I'm the other woman."
Juana is usually fun and playful, that's why she's my best friend. When she was in a somber mood it put a shadow over our conversation so we sat in silence for a moment. Juana had said what I had been thinking. I hate sleeping alone. I've told Philippe this and he usually spends his nights with me. He's so sweet, but with the queen here Philippe wouldn't be spending as much time with me and we wouldn't be together at night; at least not every night.
"I've heard that there has been terrible news," said Juana.
"What?" Maria and I asked.
Juana shrugged and said "I don't know the details but I saw some messengers arrive this morning. Later Julio was talking to some men in a low voice like he uses when he doesn't want me to hear. He looked worried. It's too bad, we had been having such fun since he came back from the wars."
We spent the rest of breakfast speculating about what might have happened. That was the gossip I enjoyed, as I didn't have to worry about my own trouble. If there wasn't really a disaster then the idle gossip was a pleasant distraction and if there was then I was privileged to have known it first.
I didn't have much to do after breakfast. Philippe would be busy with affairs of state until the afternoon. At least he'd tell me they were affairs of state. I might get an ashamed look from a maid later in the day, or one of disdain from a noblewoman. The maids I always sympathized with, what could they do if Philippe desired them? The noble ladies made me burn with rage, as they always looked like they thought that they would replace me. Having a noble title does not make one at all proficient in the act of love. Philippe made me turn away some of the more insistent ones; he can be such a coward when it comes to women.
I walked the grounds for a bit and then went to Philippe's chamber. There I read the Book of the Hours while waiting for him. My maid once remarked that it was strange that I would do penances and read religious texts. I don't think it is. I'm just Rachel to the queen's Leah. The padres don't usually see it that way, but I would bet there are far more queens in hell than there are royal mistresses. I was meditating on that when the king burst in. He didn't say anything, but was pacing as he does when he is upset.
"What is it, caro?" I asked. When I get too upset to talk I wouldn't answer Philippe if he were to ask me that. Of course when I get that upset it's because of something he did. In his case he seems to want me to ask.
He stopped pacing and said, "Oh, kitten, I have worries. The treasure fleet sank in a storm."
The treasure fleet had been held up for years because of the war. The nation was on the verge of bankruptcy. To lose it was a catastrophe. Already the army was on half pay and the feasts were no longer so grand; I shuddered to imagine what this might mean. "Oh, caro, I'm so sorry."
"Oh, it's not such a problem. I don't want to worry you. It went down near the shore and divers are working to recover the silver plate. It's just that the Queen's trousseau was on one of the ships and they haven't been able to recover it."
"Maybe you should give them time," I said. I tried to look concerned but I was delighted. The queen had demanded her trousseau before she would consent to consummate their marriage. Philippe would do anything for intercourse so he readily agreed to such a ridiculous condition. Like a spoiled child the queen had demanded an enormous trousseau with rosaries of pearls, diamond rings, enormous gold crosses and much more. Some women had demanded an exorbitant price from Philippe for their favors before which Philippe always readily agreed to. For a wife to behave that way was shocking; but Philippe was so besotted by desire that he readily agreed. All the jewels and treasures she demanded were made in the orient and in the Americas, but there had been no way to get the treasure across the Atlantic because of the English and Dutch pirates during the war.
"She said she's leaving tomorrow and she wants two more pearl necklaces before she'll even look at me again."
He looked glum and I began to feel angry. What a mercenary bitch. How dare she hurt poor Philippe so? Her one duty is to produce offspring for him, and she can't even do that little. If only I could put her in her place, but I couldn't. I did know how to cheer Philippe up. I stood up and said with a smirk, "Maybe you could give me a pearl necklace too."
