Solimar, p.13
Solimar, page 13
Below, the main hall was a mass of confusion. Guards crowded around the large entry table that was now covered with dozens of three-tiered trays filled with Señora Batista’s delectable pastries in individual servings: coconut cakes, caramel flan, pineapple empanadas, cinnamon cookies, powdered sugar tea cakes. As the trumpeters continued blaring, the guards jostled to get close enough to grab a sweet on their way out.
The soldiers on either side of Solimar took her elbows and whisked her down the stairs and through the crowd, yelling, “Make way!”
At the door, they found themselves face-to-face with Señora Batista. She held out a tray. “¡Señores!” she said, smiling. “Wouldn’t you like one of my famous powdered sugar cookies before you leave?”
Their mouths watered. They looked at one another, shrugged, and popped one into their mouths.
In the courtyard, a makeshift theater had been set up with chairs arranged around a stage. Huge awnings had been draped pole to pole above the audience area to provide shade. The stage, though, was bathed in sunshine.
The musicians stood on either end of the platform, trumpeting.
King Aveno stepped up and positioned himself center stage.
Juan Pedro followed and stood next to him.
The guards marched Solimar to King Aveno’s side.
Solimar gasped as a contingent of guards escorted her grandmother, her mother, Berto, and the other hostages to the front rows. The castle staff and the villagers, who had not traveled with the caravan, filed into the seats behind them. The guards took the remaining seats. It was a full house.
King Aveno spread his arms wide. “Silence. No one speaks except me!”
The audience quieted.
King Aveno grinned. “Welcome, everyone. Solimar of San Gregorio has a gift to share with me. The gift of prophecy! She can tell the immediate future. Isn’t that true, Solimar?”
“Yes,” she said.
Surprised murmuring spread through the audience.
King Aveno barked, “Quiet! Now, Solimar, tell me, who is my most ardent ally?”
She blurted, “Juan Pedro, formerly of San Gregorio.”
Juan Pedro stood a little taller.
“And is it true that your brother has joined the crew of the ship La Quinta?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. Next, will your father sell me a thousand acres today?”
“No. Not today.”
“Will he sell them to me tomorrow?” asked King Aveno.
“No.”
King Aveno’s voice tensed. “What is he willing to sell me?”
“A thousand flour tortillas. Nothing more. Nothing less,” she said.
A smattering of giggles ran through the audience.
Solimar looked at Abuela and nodded.
Abuela stood, held a brass bell above her head, and enthusiastically rang it.
Señora Batista, who sat at the end of the front row near a pole, pulled a rope. The awnings above the audience collapsed, spilling all manner of household items into the laps of the audience: feather dusters, wooden spoons, tea towels, bonnets, house slippers, umbrellas, mittens, and assorted laundry.
Everyone who had been forewarned about the pastries and had not eaten them laughed as each guard picked up an inanimate object—and immediately fell hopelessly in love with it. At least for a few weeks, they would be as lovestruck and preoccupied as Serafina, whose sweetheart was a green woolen sock.
King Aveno’s eyes bulged, and his cheeks puffed. He bellowed, “Attention! Attention! Or you will be arrested for insubordination!”
But it did no good. The guards ignored him, enamored of their new affections.
King Aveno’s face reddened. “Solimar, where is King Sebastián?”
“He is here on the castle grounds, waiting and watching from the barbican tower.”
Juan Pedro smirked. “I knew she couldn’t help but answer.”
King Aveno cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Come out and join us, King Sebastián! Or your family is at risk!”
Solimar looked toward the gateway.
A hush settled.
The plodding of hoofbeats echoed on cobblestones, growing louder. All eyes shifted toward the gateway and the solitary figure of King Sebastián on horseback, riding toward them.
Prince Campeón trailed him.
Two more riders followed.
Then four abreast. And four more.
Row upon row of allies on horseback continued—the captain of La Quinta and her crew, the San Gregorians the king could spare from the marketplace, the leaders of the alliance kingdoms, and their entourages.
“Solimar!” seethed King Aveno. “I demand to know the meaning of this. What are their intentions?”
Solimar’s words flew. “To display the unity of the newly formed permanent alliance of the kingdoms of the northern lands, pledging support to one another against you and the wanton stripping of the oyamel forests. And dedication to protecting the habitat of monarch butterflies. Their intention is to arrest you for blackmail and kidnapping.”
“Where are the rest of my guards from the marketplace?”
“They have deserted and betrayed you.”
King Aveno’s eyes darted from her father to all the riders to his inept guards.
“If only you knew how to escape and disappear,” said Solimar.
He grabbed Solimar’s hand and jerked her closer. “Yes! Of course! I will ask you and you must answer. How can I vanish so they’ll never find me?”
She blurted, “Through the power of the ancestral spirits, by breaking the bond between me, the chosen benevolent courier, and the rebozo.”
Juan Pedro pointed to the rebozo. “You must take it from her! It’s the only way out.”
“But I must warn you,” Solimar said, “it is not advisable to take this course of—”
King Aveno grabbed the rebozo from Solimar and quickly tied it in a knot around his waist. He laughed. “I knew this little gift of yours would be advantageous!”
From Solimar’s pocket, Zarita’s voice lilted in singsong. “Rage, madness, impending doom. It’s not nice to anger the departed. No, siree. Wrath is no picnic.…”
The sky darkened, and a wind stirred and steadily grew. The oyamel forest trembled, moaned, and whined. Leaves, branches, and debris whipped about as everyone in the audience ducked for protection.
Lázaro squawked and tugged at Solimar’s skirt.
She ran from the platform and huddled on the ground.
From the forest, a dark tornado-like cloud raced toward the stage. Juan Pedro and King Aveno held on to each other in an attempt to withstand the fierce gale. The wind roared.
The swirling wind descended upon King Aveno and Juan Pedro. A dissonant chorus began, the voices jarring and growing louder and louder.
Solimar shuddered and covered her ears.
The funnel lifted away, growing smaller and smaller until it vanished.
When the wind and the world quieted, King Aveno and Juan Pedro were nowhere to be seen. All that remained were their boots and Solimar’s crumpled rebozo.
She ran to the platform and inspected the fabric. One winged pattern, faded and barely visible, was wedged among the wrinkles. Had King Aveno’s questions drained the strength from the last butterfly’s life? “No…” she whimpered.
A wave of butterflies erupted from the oyamel forest. They dove and swooped around Solimar.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
The ancient song began, beautiful and melodic. The butterflies lifted the fabric, turning it around and around in the sun, and waving it so that it rippled until the creases fell away.
As the rebozo drifted downward, a tiny speck shimmered and grew brighter. One monarch emerged, circling! Solimar held up her hand, and the last one she protected landed on her finger, then flew away to join the others in the oyamel forest.
The rebozo drifted from the sky and onto her shoulders.
Villagers rushed forward and surrounded Solimar, peppering her with questions.
“Will I win the footrace tomorrow?”
“Will I pass my exam?”
“Will I receive a horse for my birthday?”
Solimar waited, just to be sure. Nothing came to her! “I have no idea.”
“But can’t you tell the future?”
“Heaven’s no!” she answered. “It was just a little commonsense clairvoyance and the power of suggestion to fool King Aveno.”
Two weeks later, Solimar stood at the top of the veranda with her quinceañera court lined up two-by-two on the steps below her, ready to descend to the royal garden in a grand entrance.
Señora Vega and the other seamstresses came up the line, fluffing the skirts of the dresses, including María’s turquoise one and Estela’s pistachio. They reached Solimar and fussed over her new coral gown, which was as beautiful as the first one, and then they took a few steps back to admire it.
“Thank you,” said Solimar. “I don’t know how you all made another in such a short time. You saved the day.”
“It was the least we could do for the heroine who saved the kingdom,” said Señora Vega. “Otherwise, we might be sewing for King Aveno. And that would have been a sad state. But let’s not talk about that on such a glorious evening!”
Lázaro flew to Solimar’s shoulder, his feathers embellished with ribbons, courtesy of Zarita.
Señora Vega handed the almost-new princess a bouquet of flowers and tulle in which Zarita was nestled, the doll now wearing a gown that matched Solimar’s.
“Muchas gracias, Señora Vega,” squealed Zarita. “I love what you did with the overskirt and the bodice. And the circular flounce on the sleeve is divine. Do I look lovely?”
“Of course,” said Señora Vega. “I knew exactly what you would like.”
“Zarita, you talk with Señora Vega?” asked Solimar.
“Didn’t I tell you? I speak seamstress,” said Zarita. “Now promise not to put me down for a minute tonight, especially during the dancing.”
Solimar smiled. “I promise.” She looked out over the festivities below. It was a glorious night. Lanterns glowed, the village flags fluttered in a gentle evening breeze, and violins hummed as the musicians tuned them. In the garden, an enormous dance floor had been laid, now empty except for one unoccupied chair for the shoe ceremony.
The entire kingdom had gathered to watch her become a princess of the world, and be officially crowned Princess Solimar Socorro Reyes Guadalupe of San Gregorio. Her eyes welled with tears of gratitude for a day that only a few weeks ago she didn’t want to happen.
A burst of laughter erupted from a group of young men and women surrounding Campeón. He was leaving in a few weeks for Puerto Rivera to rejoin La Quinta and travel the world. Everyone wanted to wish him well and say good-bye. Campeón was more animated than Solimar had ever seen him and holding everyone captive. Most likely by recounting the story one more time about how they—Solimar, Berto, and Campeón—saved the kingdom.
The orchestra started the procession music. King Sebastián and Queen Rosalinda walked to the center of the dance floor. He carried a shoe box, and she held a satin pillow cradling a crown. Solimar couldn’t find where it was written that only her father should participate in the shoe ceremony. Or that only the king could crown her. So she asked for both of her parents to do the honors.
Her court proceeded down the steps, the girls and boys wearing wreaths of dahlias and ivy. Berto looked a little stiff and uncomfortable in his white suit and vest but stood tall and proud. Solimar had been overjoyed when he agreed to come and bring his mother and his sisters.
After the entire court formed a semicircle around the empty chair on the dance floor, King Sebastián raised his arm and the crowd hushed.
The orchestra began a dramatic and triumphant march.
Slowly, step-by-step, Solimar descended to the dance floor and her designated spot. With her skirt and its many layers of tulle, she carefully sat down, but one of the chair’s legs was shorter than the other. It rocked back and forth, and for a moment, Solimar teetered.
Berto stepped up. “I can fix that,” he whispered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, folding it into a wedge, and sliding it under the chair leg.
Solimar grinned.
The king knelt in front of Solimar, slipped off her flat shoes of childhood, and opened the shoe box. He fitted and tied the high-heeled shoes that symbolized her bridge into womanhood—a fancy wedge version of an all-terrain sandal.
The queen, with tears in her eyes, fastened the crown on Solimar’s head.
Everyone in attendance erupted in applause and cheers!
Her father held out his arms for the first dance.
As they waltzed, he said, “This is the happiest of days for me. And much of it is because of you, Solimar. Why did you risk so much?”
“For San Gregorio, our heart and our home.”
His eyes brimmed, and he nodded. “Speaking of homes. We are officially adopting Valle Granada as part of the kingdom of San Gregorio. They are no longer kingdom-less. And we’re investing in a reservoir system to help Berto bring the river water to their valley.”
“That’s wonderful! But, Father, I’d also like to explore the possibility of using the river as a faster route to the port…someday,” said Solimar.
The king nodded. “That would benefit San Gregorio and Valle Granada. Did you know that pomegranates have medicinal uses, proving beneficial in treating fevers? And the fruit juice is an age-old remedy for memory loss. Abuela is thrilled.”
Solimar glanced to the side of the dance floor, where Abuela, Doña Flor, and Berto’s mother had their heads together, talking. Solimar smiled. “Of course she is.”
“I want to hear more,” said King Sebastián. “But first things first.” He stopped dancing and searched the dance floor. “Where is Campeón? He and I made an important decision last night, but he wants to be the one to tell you. Here comes Señor Verde. Let me hand you off to him for a few minutes, and I’ll find Campeón.”
Señor Verde cut in. “Oh, the day we’ve been waiting for! It’s so lovely. By now, of course, everyone knows you fooled King Aveno. And you were brilliant. But I’ve been puzzling over something. Tell me how, exactly, did a vicious whirlwind come forth from the forest at that precise moment? Was that somehow your doing, too? You know how I love these little tidbits of information.”
“Um…well…I…” Solimar hesitated.
“Excuse me, Señor Verde.” Campeón took Solimar in his arms and swept her across the dance floor. “I saved you from the Shadow!”
“Thank you! What am I going to do without you?” she said, laughing but not entirely joking. When she looked at his face and how happy he was, she set aside for the moment how much she would miss him after he left. “Now, what is this very important decision Father mentioned?”
Campeón laughed. “First, congratulations, Soli. This is a great party. You’re officially royalty, and it suits you. You were born to lead. And that brings me to the news.” He raised his eyebrows, teasing. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course! Tell me!”
He stopped waltzing, took her hand, and led her from the dance floor to a nearby stone bench, where he faced her.
Campeón took a deep breath and smiled. “As you know, I’m leaving on La Quinta when they dock again. I signed on for four years. I’m going to talk Father into creating a transport fleet for San Gregorio, although he doesn’t know it yet. If we can sell goods in one port, we can export and import from around the world.”
“Is that the news?”
Campeón shook his head. “As you’re aware, in San Gregorio only a prince can become king. So Father and I signed legal papers last night. While I’m gone, you will be the prince regent of San Gregorio.
“The what?”
“Prince regent. It means prince in the absence of a sovereign.”
Solimar’s heart beat a little faster. “You and Father can do that?”
“We can, and we did. And that will make you first in line to the throne. Father is planning to step down in three years when you turn eighteen. So, at that time, you would become the king regent until I return from my travels.” He grinned and winked. “That is…if I return.”
“You’re a princess, almost a prince, and the king-to-be all in one day!” cried Zarita.
Lázaro took to the sky twirling and whistling.
Solimar studied Campeón’s face to make sure he wasn’t joking.
“I will have a say?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “Yes, Soli. You will have a very big say.”
She murmured, “King Solimar.”
“I like the sound of it,” he said.
Solimar looked around the festivities. She spotted Abuela, who blew her a kiss.
She found her father and mother, who waved and smiled.
Solimar hugged Campeón. “I like the sound of it, too!”
I grew up in the San Joaquin Valley of California and often visited the Central Coast on weekends and vacations. I also visited the Pismo Beach Butterfly Grove when the eucalyptus trees were covered in overwintering monarchs. It was an unforgettable, awe-inspiring experience.
Monarchs from west of the Rocky Mountains primarily overwinter in California, landing in pine, cypress, and eucalyptus trees along the Central Coast. But those are only a small portion of the monarchs that migrate. The majority come from east of the Rocky Mountains in the United States and Canada, like those in Solimar, and overwinter in the mountains of Central Mexico, almost exclusively in oyamel fir forests. Here is more information on monarch butterflies.
Why are Monarchs Important?
Monarch butterflies are pollinators, just like bees, birds, bats, beetles, wasps, and small mammals. As they travel from one flowering plant to another, they carry and leave behind pollen, which contains genetic material that enables plants to reproduce. This generates more flowering plants and trees that include fruits, vegetables, and nuts—all critical food sources.
Picky Eaters
