During the mid-1800s, when Spain was endeavoring to chose between democracy and monarchy, there lived a noble family of three called Rivera. The two Catholic parents were very strict, especially Señora Rivera. Their son, Ethano, was thirty-one years of age but had not yet found love. He often grew restless of his strict way of life. He knew little source of entertainment other than riding his horse. Everyday, Ethano’s countenance grew increasingly crestfallen and his demeanor increasingly melancholy.
When, finally, Ethano began to skip meals, his parents took notice and conspired to throw a fiesta at their noble home and invite other noble families with their beautiful daughters so that Ethano might find a suitable wife. So, on an auspicious day in May, when the sun shone brightly upon the red and white carnations and love-stricken turtle doves cried their vivacious song, a lively host of carriages began to arrive on the Rivera property. Señor and Señora Rivera went to the entrance of the drawing room to greet their guests as the butler let them in. Ethano was watching the guests arrive from his bedroom window, so Señora Rivera sent a manservant to fetch him.
When Ethano had been sharply dressed and groomed, he descended to the drawing room where a woman was playing the piano and several men and women were gathered on various pieces of furniture, sipping from wine glasses and conversing with one another. Ethano spotted his parents on the large, low sofa below the painting of the Madonna on the wall. They were engaged in conversation with the Señor and Señora Ramirez. Then he noticed his comrade, Diego Ramirez, standing by a window alone, sipping a drink and looking on. Ethano crossed the room to him. The two greeted one another graciously. Then, Diego noticed the dark circles under Ethano’s eyes and the drawn look of his pale face.
“What troubles you, my good fellow?” Diego inquired.
“I ache body and soul for a woman to love,” was the quiet, yet passionate reply.
“Well man, I am sorry to say that I have stood here for the better part of an hour and have perceived that the pickings at this fiesta are quite slim.”
Ethano’s face drained even more of color and he looked at the floor. Seeking to cheer him, Diego said, “I’ll ask the servant to fetch you a glass of wine,” and he strode off.
Ethano slumped against the velvet-clad wall and gazed at the scene before him once again. He caught the eye of his mother, who gave him a dark look for his posture. He straightened up and sighed gratefully when Diego returned with the wine. He took a sip and continued to watch the party-goers. Diego was going on about a horse he had seen and wanted to buy, but Ethano’s mind was elsewhere.
His eyes were still roaming when two young ladies appeared in the doorway. One girl was short and full of figure with brown hair in tight curls that were pinned mercilessly to the crown of her head, but the other was tall with long, midnight-black, curly tresses that fell to her lower back freely. Her skin was smooth like milk, her lips were ruby red, and her large, dark eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky. She wore a dress of gold covered in black lace and lacy black fingerless gloves. When Ethano’s eyes rested on this lady, he immediately felt as if he had been shot in the heart. His wine glass crashed on the floor. He did not notice that the contents of the glass were splashed upon his shoes, nor that his mother had gasped in horror. Neither did he notice when two maidservants scurried to clean the mess, nor when his friend touched his shoulder and gave him a questioning look. He gaped, unmoving, at the lovely woman as she floated into the room and seated herself near the piano with her friend. Ethano felt his body pulse with renewed energy and blood rushed to his face.
“I must have her,” he whispered fiercely. Then, as the crowd parted, he stepped to where the woman was sitting. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“Señor Ethano Rivera, at your service, Señorita,” he enunciated in his deep, rumbling tones. The lady looked him in the eye and gave him a small, coy smile, but did not speak. Instead the shorter lady seated beside her spoke. “I am called Blanca, of the Garcia family, and this is my amiga, Alexia Santiago.
“Honored to meet you, Alexia Santiago,” replied Ethano, still gazing into Alexia’s eyes.
“And you as well,” answered Alexia, her voice soft, deep, and full of mystery. Seeing that she was being ignored, as usual, Blanca excused herself, and Ethano filled her place at Alexia’s side.
“Your eyes sparkle like so many precious jewels,” admired he. “Your skin is like the pure white glow of the moonlight.” Alexia did not answer but turned to the piano player who had begun vocalizing in operatic tones. But Ethano was not discouraged. “Your lips are like the juice of reddest pomegranates, and your slender form is most pleasing to my tired eyes. Your voice…” At this juncture he was interrupted by the lady.
“Señor Ethano, your profuse flattery is like that of a groveling prisoner, and my ears can no longer bear it.”
With that, she crossed the room to her friend, Blanca.
Pain like one thousand fiery arrows piercing his flesh hit Ethano full force, and he sank into the couch. Diego appeared at his side.
“Amigo,” he began, but he too was interrupted—by Ethano.
“She surely has captured my heart like no other has, yet hers has slipped through my fingers like…like…”
“Like a wine glass?” offered good natured Diego. Ethano was neither amused nor annoyed.
“Oh, Diego, my very heart has fallen ill. I shall die, Diego! If Alexia is not at my side, I shall have no need to live!”
“Then you must not give up so easily, amigo. You must show her the value of your character.”
“How may I do this?”
“I am sure will find a way soon, amigo. I have heard about this lady. There were foul rumors spread about her, but you can prove your loyalty to her by renouncing them.”
“What foul thing might anyone have to say about a woman like Alexia?”
“Well, amigo, many people do not like the way that she dresses. She wears her hair down like a young girl, and I’ve even heard that she refuses to ride side-saddle.”
“They are only jealous of her beauty! Alexia is a respectable noblewoman!”
“Tell them that, amigo.”
Ethano gazed across the room at Alexia. He felt powerless against the strong pull of love he had encountered. In a moment though, his vision was blocked by a full, green skirt. Ethano looked up into the frowning visage of his mother.
“Ethano,” she demanded. “Why were you gazing at her so? She is a not a proper lady. Did you see the way she was dressed? Did you see her unkempt hair? She is not like us, Ethano. She brings disgrace to Señor and Señora Santiago!”
In a flash of anger, Ethano sprang to his feet. In a loud voice he declared, “Alexia Santiago is as much a gentlewoman as any other here and even more so. Her manners are most genteel and she is to be honored. As for her hair, it is the most ravishing hair I have in all of my days laid eyes upon and would do her no great service if it were brushed back and pinned up like that of you snobbish lot!”
And with that, he stormed out of the room and out into the garden.
The sun was making its graceful descent, painting the sky orange, pink, crimson, and indigo. The sun itself was like a burning ball of fearsome fire, much like the fire inside of Ethano’s heart. The lovesick man stumbled to a garden bench and planted himself upon it. He plucked a white carnation, gazed at it in sheer misery, and then, in flash, he snapped the stem in half and cast the flower to the ground. He closed his eyes tightly as his head swam with all that had happened.
A moment later, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and turned. He found himself looking directly into the angelic visage of Alexia. He felt as though he had been struck with the fear of God. Almost instantly, he got to one knee. He reached over and carefully selected a robust red carnation and held it out to her.
“I am your lifelong servant, Señorita. To you, I pledge my undying loyalty.”
Alexia lifted Ethano’s chin with the tip of her graceful fingers. “Señor Ethano, I have no need of your protection. I can defend myself from the snide words of the nobility. However, you have showed me much loyalty and honor. You are worthy of my most gracious treatment."
Señor Ethano rose, ecstatic. He handed his love the carnation, which she willingly accepted, and joined her on the bench.
"Ethano," said Alexia, "before this continues, you must know that I am not an ordinary woman. I was born male, but my mind and body never agreed. None but my parents know this secret, but that has not stopped the nobility from spreading vicious rumors and outcasting me from society. If you no longer have the desire to court me, I would understand. But you must keep my secret at all costs."
Ethano froze, not quite understanding what he had heard. But as he gazed into the lovely eyes of Alexia, his heart began to beat faster. He knew that what he felt was love. Love that could not be restricted by the constraints of societal ideas and labels. He took Alexia by the hand.
"Dearest Alexia, the grip you have on my heart cannot be weakened by the weight of the secret you have revealed to me. Before I met you, I was utterly lost, a mere shadow, untethered from this world. But now that you are here with me, I feel myself being made whole again. The darkness that shrouded me all these years has been ripped away by the light you have brought to my life. I am yours, body and soul, and nothing could diminish the love I feel for you. Though I am but a mere mortal, I will do everything in my power to honor and serve you, and treat you as you deserve."
Together, they watched the sun dip below the horizon and then they had a gracious kiss. By the time the brilliant moon had appeared, the two were betrothed.
Ethano took Alexia’s hand, and they stood and rejoined the fiesta. Once inside the drawing room, where the guests were slowly returning from dinner, Ethano located his parents back on their couch. Seated with them was a young woman with golden hair pinned back just so, with her blue-clad back to Ethano. With a joyous step, Ethano led Alexia to his parents.
“Padre, Madre, he began. “I would like to announce my engagement with…” His announcement was cut short by Señora Rivera.
“Son, we have seen that the time has come for you to be married. Your padre and I have taken great pains to find the woman of utmost rank and character to properly assume the role of wife to you. Here is Señorita Maria, daughter of Señor Sanchez of Madrid.”
Stunned, Ethano turned to the woman his mother had referred to. Her eyes were large and green. Her cheeks were fresh and ruddy as crisp apples. Her skin was smooth and radiant. But as Ethano peered closer at the woman, he realized that her eyes did not sparkle and the pink dots on her cheeks were so round and perfect that they must have been artificial, and something about her demeanor suggested that she was older than him. He stepped closer to Alexia and said in a firm voice, “No, Madre, I have already found love.” He looked at Alexia. Señora Rivera followed his gaze.
“Surely you cannot mean this scandalous heathen woman!” she cried. “Maria is a respectable Catholic lady; she is even named after Our Lady, the Holy Mother of Christ. That girl will only be a poor influence on you, my son. If you marry her, then as surely as the Lord lives, you will be cut off from the family!”
Filled with rage, Ethano turned his back and fled to his room. There he wept bitterly for Alexia, his only love. He was lying on his bed, feeling faint with grief when he heard footsteps out in the hall. Then he heard a piercing scream. He bolted from bed and flung open the door with little trepidation. At his feet lay sweet Alexia, a bloody stain beneath her shoulder. Kneeling beside her was Maria.
“Help!” Maria gasped to Ethano. She has been wounded.”
“Alexia, sweet Alexia,” Ethano choked, sinking to his knees and crawling to her side.
“Ethano,” was her weak reply, and then she fainted dead away. Blood now gathered in a small puddle on the floor from the open wound in Alexia’s shoulder. She had been stabbed.
“I think I have some smelling salts, Ethano,” said Maria. “Here.”
She placed an object in Ethano’s hand. Ethano just gazed at Alexia in mortal grief. He stroked her supple cheek. Before long, the party guests appeared on the scene, drawn upstairs by the scream.
“Ethano, what has happened?” Señora Rivera asked.
“My daughter!” cried Señor Santiago. He thrust his finger at Ethano. “You! What have you done to my daughter?!”
“It was not I who harmed Alexia,” pleaded Ethano holding out his hands to Señor Santiago. The crowd gasped and shrank back. All had their eyes fixed on Ethano’s hands. Ethano looked down at them. In his left hand lay a dagger, stained with blood.
In shock, Ethano threw the knife down and stood. And then he remembered Maria placing something in his hand—smelling salts. But…
“Maria!” Ethano roared, looking about. But Maria was gone.
Señor Santiago turned to Señor and Señora Rivera. He jabbed his finger at Ethano again and bellowed, “Your son is a villain! I will see to it that he is punished severely!”
Alexia had come to a few moments before and caught her father’s words.
“Oh please, Padre,” she begged. “Ethano has not done it. He is innocent. He would not harm me. He loves me.” Señora Santiago ran to her daughter’s side and knelt down. Señor Santiago boomed, “How may I believe this when the very knife that stabbed you is in that boy’s hand? This man is obviously guilty!”
“But I am not!” protested Ethano. “I came out of my room and found her this way. I love Alexia!”
“It is true,” Señora Rivera added. “The fool is infatuated with that that girl. I know not how she has possessed him in this way. That girl is a disgrace!”
In horror, Señor Santiago drew back and sputtered, “We are leaving this very minute! We can stay no longer under the roof of you… you… dastardly criminals!”
“Señor Santiago,” called Señora Santiago from her kneeling position. “Our daughter is unfit to be moved. We must stay here and send for an apothecary.” Señor Santiago’s eyes softened as he gazed at his wounded daughter.
“Very well,” he grumbled. So the shaken crowd was dispersed and the apothecary was sent for and Alexia was placed in bed.
The apothecary arrived sooner than he was expected. He asked to be alone with his patient. When he emerged, Alexia was sleeping peacefully. Upon seeing this, her parents decided not to bother her and retired to their guest room. The fiesta was adjourned.
Ethano repaired to his bedroom, his heart heavy. He lay down, but rest did not come. He resolved to visit his sweet Alexia as soon as she awoke. He knew now that the only way for them to be together was for them to elope. Their parents were now rivals, and Ethano had been accused of a crime he would never dream of committing. The true offender was Maria. He had sensed a portentous feeling when he had met her and now he knew why. He was sure she had intended to kill Alexia. But where was she now? She could still be here, Ethano realized with a start. She could try again to kill sweet Alexia! Ethano vaulted from his bed and slipped into the hall. He made his way to Alexia’s bedroom in stealthy silence. Fearful that a knock would arouse others, he slowly opened the door.
There she was, her glorious body elevated upon the bed, enveloped in curtains of deepest crimson.
“Alexia,” whispered Ethano, lighting a candle and venturing near the bed. The figure stirred.
“Is that you, brave Ethano?” Alexia’s voice sounded high and thin.
“It is I,” answered Ethano, rushing to her bedside. “I have come to fetch you, my love. I am afraid you are in grave danger here. We shall run away and be married.”
“Oh, Ethano,” Alexia answered.
“Can you travel, my love?”
“For you, I shall be able to brave anything. How shall we go?”
“By my horse; we must leave straightaway.” With that, he ran from the room to prepare his steed. When his horse was prepared and safely stowed in the bushes near the front door, Ethano sneaked back up the stairs. As he was passing near his bedroom on the way to Alexia, he heard a loud clattering sound as he trampled something underfoot. It was Maria’s dagger. Ethano cleaned it with a handkerchief and tucked it in his hip pocket. Then he went back to Alexia’s room where she bravely allowed him to scoop her up in his strong arms and bear her down the stairs and out of the house.
The night was crisp and cool. So when the two were situated on Ethano’s black horse, Ethano draped his coat over Alexia who was seated sideways in front of Ethano, resting against his chest. Off they rode, hard and fast until the cobblestone street and elegant structures of the town began to diminish and they were trotting along the quiet countryside. The moon illuminated Alexia’s face so that to Ethano, she seemed to be an angel. As his eyes rested on the magnificent face, he was shocked to see that right before his eyes, Alexia’s very visage suddenly was transformed into the coy face of… Maria!!!
The dumbfounded man could only stare, trancelike, as Maria sat up straight and looked him in the eyes, a slow smile spreading across her face. Ethano’s coat slid off of her onto the ground. Seemingly revived by the dull “thud,” Ethano jerked the reigns of his horse and they came to a stop.
“How did you get here?” he demanded. “What have you done with Alexia?” He remembered retrieving Maria’s dagger. He drew it out of his pants’ pocket and held the tip to Maria’s throat.
“Tell me everything! Now!” he exclaimed pressing the sharp tip closer to her flesh. Maria made a move to dismount, but Ethano saw her eyes shift downward and he, swift as a viper, caught her by the arm, locking her in his iron grip. Then he cast his eyes on her with a look of such fire that her own glare broke.
“My name is not Maria,” she muttered. “It is Gitana.”
“Go on,” urged Ethano.
“I am an hechecera (sorceress). My family rejected me because I could not find a husband and carry on our lineage. I was supposed to find a man to have a child with and then kill him before he found out my true identity. But I am now old. So I did my best to make myself presentable for you so that you could be cajoled into marrying me. But that insolent girl got in my way!”
“What have you done with her?” Ethano demanded. He pressed harder on the knife that the skin around the tip blanched.
“She, she is… not… dead. She is… alive.” Gitana panted. The knife retreated slightly.
“As I was saying, I had to get rid of her. I tried stabbing her in the heart but she tried to duck and the blade went into her arm instead. I knew she would live, and would be able to reveal me, so I tried to get you blamed for the crime. Later, I changed myself into an apothecary and “happened” to be on the road when I was needed. Once inside Alexia’s room, I placed her in a deep sleep to keep my secret. Then I pretended to leave but instead, snuck in through the back door and hid, waiting for all to go to sleep. When all was still, I crept to Alexia’s room, put her in the wardrobe, changed myself to look like her and waited for you. Now the spell has worn off. It was only temporary.”
“So Alexia is in the wardrobe?” Ethano dug his heels into his horse, even as he kept the dagger steady in front of the enchantress’ throat.
“If you so much as utter a single syllable to cast a spell, I will slit your throat and leave you for the buzzards,” he growled.
Guiding the reigns with only one hand, Ethano rode hard back along the road from which he had come. By the time he had arrived at his parents’ home, the sky was turning gray. He leapt down from his horse, locked Gitana in the livery stable, and crept back into his home of thirty-one years for the last time. He flew upstairs and rescued the still-sleeping Alexia from the wardrobe. "The old crone was telling the truth," he thought.
Then, again, he mounted the black horse with his precious cargo and rode out of town. When they were safely away from civilization, Alexia’s eyes fluttered open, as the sun burst over the waiting landscape.
“Good morning, my red carnation.” Ethano whispered. “You are my love, my all. And we shall be wed tomorrow.”
