Bartolomé Read online

  Sometimes specially selected noble children were invited to play. But they were so intimidated by their parents’ exhortations to good behaviour that they just stood stiffly around and did everything that Margarita asked of them. In any case, running wild and tumbling about the place was impossible in the fancy outfits they wore, all decked out in ruffles and lace. If any of the children did the slightest thing to annoy Margarita, he or she was borne off immediately by one of the mothers that hung around or one of the ladies-in-waiting. Nobody was allowed to cross the little Infanta of Spain.

  Margarita got bored with this kind of company, and the only real friends she had were animals, dwarves and deformed people. With these creatures, she was able to enjoy life. The animals were housed in a pretty little stable building, while the human curiosities were accommodated in the palace and were always available to her as playthings.

  Among them was José, whose flexible body seemed to contain no bones. He entertained the little princess by twisting his body into every conceivable shape. Nono was a totally spherical dwarf who could roll like a ball. Maria Augustina de Sarmiento, who was the most creative lady-in-waiting, had invented an amusing game of skittles, whereby pages were made to stand around in the corridors, stiff as ninepins, and Margarita tried to knock them down with Nono. The thing Margarita liked best, however, were the spooky stories that were told by Marie Barbola, the dwarf with the expressionless moonface.

  ‘Where is Marie Barbola? She should be here with me!’ the Infanta demanded after supper, when her little royal household withdrew and she was left to her own devices. She knew that it was bedtime, but she wanted to drag it out a bit.

  ‘She is preparing a surprise for the princess.’

  Margarita pulled a face and stamped her foot. ‘I don’t want a surprise. She is to come here immediately!’

  ‘But, but!’ Doña de Ulloa chipped in. ‘A Spanish Infanta always keeps her cool.’

  Doña de Ulloa was the only one who occasionally chided Margarita gently.

  Margarita’s pretty face flushed red. ‘Nobody ever refuses the Spanish Infanta anything!’ she cried.

  Doña de Ulloa took this in her stride. Even if she didn’t show it externally, she always thought of the Infanta as just a little girl. She always spoke respectfully, but she did not tolerate opposition, not even from the Infanta.

  ‘As far as I am aware, the Infanta herself has expressed a wish for this surprise,’ she said to the cross little girl.

  Margarita thought this over. What surprise had she asked for? She couldn’t remember, but her curiosity was aroused.

  ‘Doña de Ulloa, what did I say I wanted?’ she wheedled.

  ‘Has the wish of the Infanta, which she expressed so fervently when she was out in her coach today, become so unimportant that she has already forgotten it?’

  Out in her carriage! The extraordinary little creature that had scuttled out in front of the wheels of the coach! Margarita jumped with joy.

  ‘My human doggy!’ she cried. ‘I want to see it and play with it. Bring it immediately to my bedroom.’

  Doña de Ulloa coughed politely. Margarita looked at her for a moment in astonishment. Then she got it. She gave a perfect curtsy and asked nicely: ‘Please may the human dog be brought?’

  Doña de Ulloa nodded contentedly. ‘When the princess has put on her nightdress, the human dog can be brought,’ she announced calmly.

  ‘Quickly, please,’ cried Margarita impatiently.

  Maria Augustina hurried away. Hopefully Marie Barbola had completed the training by now.

  The dwarf woman and Bartolomé were sitting together in the little room on the sofa. Bartolomé had laid his great head in Marie Barbola’s lap, and, exhausted, had nodded off. She was stroking him contentedly. Bartolomé was able to bark properly now, and perform tricks, and he had promised her not to disappoint the Infanta.

  As the door flew open and Maria Augustina entered the bare little room, Bartolomé shot upright.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ cried the lady-in-waiting. ‘A dog does not sit on the sofa.’

  Marie Barbola shooed Bartolomé away and he crept into a corner.

  ‘Can he bark and beg?’ Maria Augustina asked.

  The dwarf woman nodded. ‘Bark!’ she commanded. ‘Do what I taught you to do.’

  Bartolomé closed his eyes briefly and tried to see himself as the bravest dog in Spain, or at least to feel like an actor playing an important part. Then he gave a good loud bark.

  ‘And now the tricks,’ ordered Marie Barbola.

  Bartolomé sat up and begged, bared his teeth, pretended to slurp something up off the floor, fetched a little ball that the dwarf threw for him and finished by raising his leg.

  Maria Augustina roared with laughter when this made Bartolomé lose his balance and tumble to the floor.

  ‘Wonderful!’ she declared.

  Marie Barbola beamed with pride. She was hoping she’d be allowed to go with them. The Infanta would be sure to reward her with a little attention.

  Maria Augustina pulled a gold-embroidered leather collar and a lead out of the pocket of her dress and gave them to the dwarf woman.

  ‘Take him to the Infanta’s bed-chamber. I’ll be waiting there for you.’

  Bartolomé allowed the collar to be put around his neck and let himself be led on the lead. He scuttled along behind Marie Barbola through the passageways. Two pages were waiting at the bedroom door.

  ‘So this is supposed to be a dog, Moonface?’ they jeered.

  Bartolomé bared his teeth and growled menacingly. If these lads annoyed him again, he’d bite. He was a proper dog now. The pages shrank back. Marie Barbola laughed softly.

  ‘Just you watch it,’ she warned them. ‘He bites people he doesn’t like.’

  Before the pages could answer, Maria Augustina opened the door.

  ‘You can come in,’ she said, and her pretty little face was bright with excitement. It had been ages since she’d had such a great idea.

  Marie Barbola marched into the bed-chamber, pulling Bartolomé behind her.

  The princess shrieked when she saw the extraordinary little dog. With one leap, she was out of bed and was running barefoot towards Bartolomé. The ladies and gentlemen present clapped delightedly.

  Bartolomé suddenly took fright. So many people were staring at him. He tried to hide behind Marie Barbola. He wished he could be invisible.

  ‘Behave yourself,’ hissed the dwarf woman at him in disgust, pulling hard on the lead.

  The leather collar was choking Bartolomé. But he had a part to play. He couldn’t get away. As he’d practised, he sat up on his hind legs and gave a soft bark.

  Margarita knelt down in front of him and gave him a rapturous hug.

  Bartolomé’s heart was beating so hard, he thought it might burst.

  ‘My dear, sweet, funny little dog,’ cried Margarita and stroked Bartolomé’s head.

  When she looked at him with her big blue eyes, Bartolomé forgot that he wasn’t really a dog and didn’t even want to be one. When the princess gently stroked his nose and cheeks and tickled him under the chin, he stuck out his tongue and gave her rosy little hand a careful lick.

  He could hear Marie Barbola giving a horrified gasp behind him. She hadn’t practised this trick with him. What Bartolomé was doing was cheeky. The Infanta was sure to push him away in disgust, and the dwarf woman would bear the brunt of her anger.

  ‘Oh!’ murmured Margarita in surprise. None of her other animals had ever been so gentle and trusting. She hugged the little dog harder, and Bartolomé could feel her heart beating just as fast as his own.

  ‘Tonight,’ Margarita decided, ‘he’ll sleep beside my bed. Please make a soft bed out of cushions for him.’

  BARTOLOMÉ’S little body sank into the thick, soft pillow that a chambermaid had laid next to the bed. In the room, it was dark except for a little oil lamp in a corner, where a lady sat whose job it was to watch over the Infanta all night long a
s she lay in bed.

  Margarita was so overjoyed by this droll little human dog that she couldn’t get to sleep.

  She turned onto her side and dropped her arms down to Bartolomé and felt the velvet costume. She stroked it and whispered endearments.

  Who knows? thought Bartolomé, who was already half asleep. Maybe this little princess and I can really be friends.

  This thought continued into his dream. He was running through the palace corridors, holding the princess’s hand. Sometimes they stood still. They laughed and then the Infanta whispered her little secrets to him. In the dream, Bartolomé had no hump, no club feet and no weak, crooked legs. He was still small, a dwarf, but properly formed and dressed in a page’s costume. But in the dream, the pages had to crawl on all fours and perform tricks.

  Friendship

  WHEN Bartolomé woke, his limbs were aching. The soft pillows had given his deformed body no support during the night. With difficulty, he crawled out of bed. He badly needed to go to the toilet. He looked around him.

  The Infanta was still asleep. Her pretty face lay peacefully on a snow-white pillow, framed in blond curls. Her cheeks were pink and she was smiling slightly in her sleep.

  The lady-in-waiting who had sat up all night in a corner, in the light of an oil-lamp, had nodded off over her embroidery.

  What should he do? Should he just open his buttons, wriggle out of his costume, and relieve himself quietly in a corner? He didn’t dare.

  He squeezed his legs together and tried to wait. The pressure was becoming unbearable. He crept painfully over to the lady-in-waiting and tugged gently at her dress. She leapt out of her sleep with a start.

  ‘Is something wrong with the Infanta? Does she need me?’ she said in panic.

  ‘I’m bursting,’ murmured Bartolomé, embarrassed.

  ‘What?’ The lady-in-waiting looked at him in consternation. What made this ugly thing think he could bother her with something like this?

  ‘I’m going to go in my costume any minute,’ Bartolomé said, suppressing a sob.

  ‘Control yourself.’ The lady-in-waiting stood up in disgust. ‘Come with me!’

  She went to the door and opened it. A guard came running immediately.

  ‘Take him to the privy,’ she ordered.

  Turning to Bartolomé she said forcefully, ‘This is not to happen again. While you are with the Infanta, you are not to express any needs. That won’t do.’

  Bartolomé nodded unhappily as he crept past her. He needed to go so badly, he could hardly move forward. The soldier could see this and he felt sorry for him. As soon as the door closed behind then, he picked Bartolomé up and ran with him to an outhouse in the yard.

  ‘You know your way back,’ said the soldier and left him alone.

  In the bare little room, Bartolomé fumbled with his buttons and wriggled out of his dog-pelt as fast as he could. When he was finished and was putting on the costume again, he heard the door being burst open behind him.

  ‘What are you doing here and who are you?’ asked an unfamiliar, bossy voice.

  Bartolomé turned around. In front of him stood a child, a boy, hardly seven years old. He was wearing an elegant dark red velvet suit. Under it he wore black stockings and a black shirt with white lace at the collar and on the sleeves. The boy had long brown hair and a slim body. Bartolomé tried to cover himself with his pelt.

  ‘What are you putting on?’ asked the child. It had to be a page. His clothing was too fine and his voice too confident for a servant.

  ‘A costume,’ answered Bartolomé, embarrassed. He didn’t want to be mocked again.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m playing a human dog for the Infanta,’ Bartolomé admitted.

  ‘You were with the Infanta?’ The page’s face darkened.

  Bartolomé nodded. ‘I slept in her room.’

  ‘In her room! You’re lying! Nobody sleeps with the Infanta, and certainly not someone as ugly as you.’

  Bartolomé couldn’t stand for this. He thought of the endearments the little princess had used, her smile, the joy he had brought her.

  ‘She likes me. She wants to be my friend,’ said Bartolomé, sure of himself.

  ‘Your friend?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Bartolomé had managed to wriggle back into the costume and to put up his hood. He felt in charge of the situation.

  The page spat in his face. ‘I, Nicolasito Pertusato, am the Infanta’s only friend. She likes me. I’m her favourite dwarf.’

  Favourite dwarf? Bartolomé stared at the boy. Really! He suddenly realised that Nicolasito’s facial features were not round and soft, but were set and hardened. He noticed a dark film of hair on his upper lip. Nicolasito was not a child but a dwarf like himself, and he must be a few years older than Joaquín.

  Bartolomé wiped the spittle off his face with his sleeve. Nicolasito came a step nearer. Bartolomé shrank back. He could sense the anger of this dwarf and he was afraid.

  ‘She loves only me! I’m allowed to pick flowers for her and to put sweets into her mouth!’ cried Nicolasito. ‘Tell me, what did she allow you to do?’

  ‘She embraced me and stroked me and whispered endearments to me as I lay by her bed on a pillow.’

  ‘You’re lying again! The Infanta does not embrace such creatures. That would disgust her.’

  Bartolomé shook his head and said nothing. This could not be true.

  ‘Do you not believe me? Take Marie Barbola. When the Infanta wants to be spooked, she asks for Moonface. That’s her job, to scare her.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Bartolomé argued. ‘She meant it. I have to get back to her. She is waiting for me.’

  ‘We’ll go together.’

  Nicolasito pulled him up and dragged him by the floppy ears of his costume through the yard into the palace to the Infanta’s bedroom.

  ‘We’ll ask her. She can decide for herself who she likes and who not.’

  ‘We can’t do that!’ cried Bartolomé, horrified. He was remembering the strict instructions of the first lady-in-waiting. Nobody was allowed to speak to the Infanta.

  ‘Ha!’ crowed Nicolasito. ‘I can do that!’

  The sentry was standing in front of the great double door which was upholstered in blue velvet.

  ‘That took you long enough!’ he snapped at Bartolomé. ‘The Infanta is awake. Her ladies will be here in a moment to dress her.’

  ‘Sentry, let us through!’ Nicolasito said to him.

  He’ll get a clip on the ear for this cheek, thought Bartolomé. A simple dwarf could not give an order to a sentry. But he was wrong. The sentry nodded briefly, stood aside and opened the door. Nicolasito strode in imperiously. Bartolomé followed him slowly, hesitating.

  The heavy curtains had been pulled aside and sunlight flooded through the high windows into the room. The little princess was sitting up in bed, nibbling titbits out of a bowl. A lady-in-waiting was standing beside her and a serving girl was filling a washbasin with hot water. Nicolasito took one leap onto the big bed. The eiderdown billowed up. The Infanta laughed.

  ‘Nicolasito, I’ve missed you so much.’

  She offered him a white sugar biscuit. Nicolasito shook his head silently and pouted.

  ‘Are you cross with me?’ asked Margarita.

  Nicolasito nodded.

  ‘Have I hurt you in some way?’ asked the little princess, concerned.

  ‘The Infanta of Spain has broken my poor heart,’ replied Nicolasito accusingly.

  ‘How?’ cried the little girl, horrified. ‘You were fine yesterday morning, and since then we haven’t seen each other.’

  ‘Exactly!’

  Nicolasito pointed an accusing finger at Bartolomé, who was now cowering on the cushion beside the bed.

  ‘This creature claims he has gained your favour. I didn’t believe him, but he insisted that he had been embraced by my Infanta and stroked by her. She is supposed to have whispered many endearments in his ear ye
sterday evening.’

  Margarita laughed loudly. ‘But Nicolasito, that’s only my human doggy. He is so funny and he can do tricks. I saw him yesterday afternoon when I was out. I rescued him from the gutter and he is so grateful to me for that.’

  ‘He is a dwarf, an ugly dwarf,’ said Nicolasito peevishly.

  ‘He is not like you. Look at him. He’s like a real dog, and I love him like a dog,’ Margarita explained to her playmate.

  Nicolasito remained silent. This was not enough.

  Margarita crept over the bedclothes to him and hugged him.

  ‘I love you like a proper person,’ she breathed into his ear.

  Bartolomé heard it anyway. That was the way it was, then. He was only an animal, not a friend.

  ‘If I ask the Infanta nicely,’ said Nicolasito slyly, ‘will she give up her human dog for the sake of her dwarf?’

  Bartolomé’s heart skipped a beat. If the Infanta rejected him, would he be thrown out into the gutter and left to rot? That had been what Marie Barbola had said.

  The Infanta looked thoughtfully from Nicolasito, her strange dwarf friend, to Bartolomé, her beloved human dog. Of course the doggy was not so important. She couldn’t talk to him and play with him as she could with Nicolasito. On the other hand, he was so trusting.

  Bartolomé met the Infanta’s gaze. This little girl could make a decision that affected his life. He stood up and begged and barked softly.

  ‘Oh, Nicolasito, look how sweet he is!’ cried Margarita, charmed. ‘He’s not doing you any harm. Could you not like him just a little, for my sake?’

  Nicolasito considered. If he insisted on getting his way, the princess would give up the other dwarf. On the other hand, she would tire of him eventually anyway.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ he said, giving in. ‘But the Infanta must not spoil it. Otherwise it will misbehave. A dog has to be made to be obedient at all times.’

  The princess embraced her dwarf. ‘Nicolasito, you will be in charge of my dog’s education!’ she announced.

  Heaven and Hell