I love most of all Epic or Fantasy stories (with the exception of Game of Thrones, the series), this one brings me to great memory of my younger years, watching the actual Tele Novela at home, a lot of things I didn’t understand as it was dubbed to Bahasa Indonesia, plus the voices they chose for the leads were in my opinion laughable. So now thanks to my Colombian hubby, I have gained fluency in Spanish enough to read the Novela and translate it into English just for fun I still haven’t decided if I am going to continue or not, since it is a very long story with 3 books.
I attached the picture of the late Eduardo Palomo and Edith Gonzales, because I think I can never erase the image of them as Juan del Diablo and Monica de Altamira from my mind.
The October storm roars on the restless sea of the Antilles… It is night, and the blasts of a hurricane wind crashing against the cliffs of rocks by the giant waves, which then falls into a seething blanket of foam under the scourge of the rain.;. Black is the sky; and the Earth, is overcome. It is the Costa Brava (Wild Coast) that opens, first in small coves, in narrow flats, and then a few meters further, it becomes a thick jungle… Tierra Antillas (West Indian Land) on which flies the flag of France… A ship enters the port of Saint-Pierre, in spite of the elements unleashed… and joining the concert of the wind and “waves, the honor of twenty-one Cannon volley greets you from the Fort of San Honorato…
At the same time that the ship, which already is home to the road stead of Saint-Pierre, a small boat ramshackle has miraculously won a tiny beach near the town, and its only crew jumps off, getting into the water up to the waists, to drag the fragile boat, ridding it of renewed fury of the elements…
The vivid light of lightning has illuminated from head to toe to the bold sailor, that at night it up to the Cove. He is strong and agile; flexible as a feline takes a few steps away from the sea, to straighten up after, such as calculating – the danger of the place in which he left his boat. His skin is bronzed by the weather; wide and strong neck; shoulders, square; hips, narrow; with calloused hands and bare feet, that seem to cling as paws on the ground that he treads… .
He must be just about twelve years…
The ominous boom of Thunder moved the night shadows. .. The boy, dominating his instinctive fear, looked straight into the sky dark, which is marked with the rays of their vivid light lashes, and exclaims:-Santa Bárbara! for a moment he seems to hesitate, but it is not for fear.! The horrible night does not produce fright… Only estimating, with accurate look, what path he should follow to quickly reach the nearby city, whose lights are clustered around the bay.
He felt the small envelope you guarding it as a treasure between his wet clothes, looking back to the boat that was left on the sand and then hurriedly moved on with quick and silent step…
– If you don’t hurry, we will arrive late to the party of the Governor, amigo (friend) D’Autremont.
-Hurry? I tell you I never hurry for anything or anyone, amigo Noel; not to mention that it is raining cats and dogs. Only a handful of guests who will not be delayed tonight, and in addition, Marshal Pont-mercy arrives in this ship you saw enter twenty minutes ago. He is the guest of honor
–No more than you, my friend. The feast is in honor of both of you, and the car has been waiting for long time. •
– Okay, amigo Noel… let’s go.- Francisco. D’Autremont has been standing with an elegant nuisance gesture… took a few steps through the luxurious stay, and stops in the middle of the lobby, with gesture of surprise upon hearing a strong abating noise suddenly covering the place with its echoes… Disgusted, calls arrogantly to his servant:-who’s calling in that way, the Baptist?
-I will go to see now, My Lord – says the servant-. I don’t know who can be the bold-
-Then put him in place – orders D’Autremont. A gust of wind and rain suddenly entered, whistling, in the elegant lobby; and angrily , D’Autremont shouts:-shut that door, stupid!
Before that the servant managed to close it, the Importunate visitor has penetrated with a jump; strands of wet hair on the face, his body half naked dripping water on the carpet… so amazingly daring and bold, that Francisco D’Autremont and Pedro Noel recede to see him, swapping outrage by surprise…
– Wow! -exclaims Noel.
– But what’s this? -exclaims D’Autremont.
-I’m looking for Mr Francisco D’Autremont… – explains the boy decisively.
-He must be a madman, My Lord- intervenes the servant.- I’m going to…! .
–Now, leave him alone! -says D’Autremont.
-Are you Don Francisco D’Autremont? -asked the boy-. You, Sir?
-Yes, I am… But you, who are you? And what the heck happened so you dare to come to my house in this way?
-My name is Juan. I come from El Cabo del Diablo (The Devil’s Cape) out to bring you this letter. Mr Bertolozi is dying and told me that you have to get before his demise. If you are really Mr D’Autremont, come with me… I brought my boat to take you… are going…? The boy has taken another step towards the door but stops observing the face of Francisco D’Autremont, watching him dumbfounded, at his hand the wet envelope of the letter that was just handed… He is a tall, distinguished man who dresses with extraordinary elegance… Beside him Pedro Noel, his friend and notary; plump and kind, moves his head as if he could not believe – who is watching and listening to, and. surprise and unhappy at the same time, asks:
-Taking Mr D’Autremont in your boat?
-When I said that is crazy…!
A better one will be called to come and take him–insists the servant.
-Still! -sort D’Autremont. Then, as Recalling, Mumbles-: Bertolozi… Bertolozi…
-He said that you must go right away, he, unfortunately, could not wait too long. If we go right now, by dawn will be there.-
-Bertolozi is dying…:-Whispers D’Autremont.
-That is what the healer said… That he will not live to tomorrow… Andvhe left him with some medicine, but he refused to take it and sent me with this letter…He said that you had to go there
-Well you are completely wrong. I do not know any Bertolozi… – exclaims D’Autremont, glowering.
-That’s not possible, Lord! If you are Don Francisco D’Autremont…
– I do not know any Bertolozi! – he emphasizes this. He turns to his friend and invites -: are going, Noel?
-But, Sir… .one………. – complains the boy,
D’Autremon walked out followed by the notary, without going back to look at the boy, and jumps; the coachman of the boom opens the door of the carriage. For a moment contemplates the wet letterr, puts it in his pocket, and entering the car ordered with strong voice:-the Palace of the Governor. Now!
The boy approaches, imploring screaming:-Lord… Lord… Lord…! Everything is useless. The car has moved away; the boy hesitates a moment, and then walked in the rain that hits the street…