by little.
Demonstrating a magnanimity that left everyone amazed, the Queen declared that she was putting her personal treasure—which she had slowly and meticulously collected during her brief reign with Volodioso, who had been extremely generous with her—at the service of the Realm. And the first thing she did was to send Almíbar to negotiate trade with Leonia, with a view toward general improvement.
The return of the first expedition from the island of coveted riches was received with great delight, because, thanks to a highly favorable agreement with the Queen of that picturesque southern land, Almíbar had brought very fine goods, credit, countless rich fabrics, and other luxurious novelties that filled the ladies, and more than one gentleman, with excitement and pleasure. In this way, the Queen enjoyed the favor of the nobility, and then after ordering flour and wine to be distributed to the people, the jubilation spread, and her name gained a certain popularity among the commoners as well, although in truth, with less trust than among the nobility.
Not content with all this and to further prove her magnanimity, she extravagantly worshipped the memory of her unkind husband. In the Monastery of the Abundios—to whom she also demonstrated a benevolence unprecedented in the Realm—she had an extraordinary Royal Cemetery constructed, where they buried him beneath his own stone effigy—she’d commissioned a sculptor from the Island of Leonia, where the arts flourished abundantly, according to Almíbar and his nostalgic wonder—in which in every light, he appeared younger and more dashing than he ever was. And he himself declared that, like any proud King, he should have an epithet describing his nature, so, from that moment on he was known as Volodioso I the Aggrandizer. And this made everyone feel, beyond any logical explanation, grander and richer. Everyone, that is, except the Wretched, because the Queen, in the magnificent beginning of her reign, forgot about them.
Once these issues were all resolved, the Queen settled comfortably into the South Wing, where she rested and rejuvenated her weary bones. She appointed Dolinda and Artisia duchesses, and then royal ladies-in-waiting, which, as was to be expected, pleased the girls greatly. Unfortunately, from that moment, they too forgot their relatives in the coal regions, the Wretched. In turn, they married two noblemen, twice their age, but also twice as rich.
And so, all these matters attended to, the time came for the Queen to gather together her advisors in a very private assembly to disclose to them something that had remained dormant in her mind and heart through her long years of thought and confinement.
Once they were gathered in her private chambers, the Sorcerer, the Goblin of the South, and the handsome Almíbar—although he was not essential, since in such circumstances he usually fell asleep: it was only a matter of courtesy—the Queen addressed her true—and perhaps her only—friends:
—Dear friends, the time has come to make an important decision regarding Gudú to emphatically and definitively secure the crown and the glory of the Realm for him. And as your lessons and my own experience have taught me, an essential condition has become very clear for endowing him with a unique virtue in this regard.
She was silent for a moment, one of her few weaknesses was a penchant for solemnity. Her friends listened attentively:
—My dear friends, she repeated, with her customary sweetness and strength, the matter is simple and complicated at the same time, and that is why I am in great need of your arts and wisdom. The decision is to, once and for all, render Gudú completely incapable of any form of love for others.
—Dear girl, the Sorcerer said, I do not wish to contradict you, since you know well my thoughts on this matter, but I think that you exaggerate your aversion to that impulse: no one knows better than you that it can yield as many delights as disasters. But rest assured that if we find a potion or something similar to achieve it, I can already tell you that it will not be perfect: one cannot remove the capacity to love partially, or that is to say, conditionally, but rather, if it is possible, it will have to be removed in all its forms.
—I know that, she said, patiently. I see no disadvantage.
—It’s just, said the Goblin, that he will also be denied the capacity for friendship, and the capacity for any affection. And therefore, he will not love you either. I say this because you humans generally appreciate that sentiment, while in our species things work differently, dear girl, and it is my duty to warn you of this.
—I have already considered it, Ardid replied, this time forcefully and dispensing with any sweetness, which in the moment she considered superfluous. I have no objection to him not loving me: it is enough for Gudú that I love him.
They discussed the issue some more, but given Ardid’s unwavering resolve, the Sorcerer and the Goblin agreed to study the matter with great caution and care. Almíbar had already fallen asleep, and might have missed the heart of the matter; in any case, he would have forgotten it. He forgot almost everything, except his love for Ardid, since it was so ingrained in him and had become rooted throughout his entire being in such a way that little space remained for other things.
Some time later, the Sorcerer and the Goblin informed the Queen of the fruits of their lengthy investigation. Ardid herself went to the dungeon where the old Master was so at ease. He had refused to occupy a more comfortable place, since for him there was no better spot in the Castle of Olar. The three, alone this time, gathered around a fire that reawakened ancient times in their hearts, when they hid in the ruins of the Castle of Ansélico. Finally, the two elders informed Ardid of the following:
—Indeed there exists the possibility of removing King Gudú’s capacity to love. Just as we warned you, the procedure is extreme and total. If you persist in your plan, we must clarify several aspects of the matter. As you know, there is no sorcery, enchantment, or contract with the Higher Powers that is not subject to some requirement, which (depending on the circumstances) may or may not ultimately turn out to be counterproductive. In the case at hand, the detail or stipulation is that if a being’s capacity to love is removed, the ability to weep is simultaneously taken from him.
—I see no disadvantage, she said. All the better: he will not know that humiliating sensation.
—True, said the Goblin, but there is a more complicated issue in this case that seems so simple: if for some strange or unexpected reason (which cannot be foreseen, as our powers are limited), the subject treated with such procedures were to one day shed a tear, not only he, but every place his feet had touched, and all those who had shared his existence, would disappear forever from Time and Earth, into Oblivion.
—But if you eliminate the capacity to love and with it the ability to weep . . . such a disappearance logically cannot occur.
—That’s what I think, said the Sorcerer, but without much conviction.
—This is what everything would lead one to believe, if our investigation has not failed in its calculations, added the Goblin. But that clause is recorded in the Tractate: and if it appears there, there must exist some loophole which we may not be able to foresee.
—I see no logic in your fears, repeated Ardid, impatiently. You yourselves have said that the one entails the other: if he does not love, he shall not weep. If he does not weep, there is no cause for concern.
The Queen’s two friends nodded in silence, but doubt—vague and remote, but doubt nonetheless—lingered in their eyes.
—Keep in mind, the Goblin finally said, that our power is not an absolute power. Not even safe from contamination do goblins have knowledge of All Possibilities. This is especially true in the state—although mild—of contamination in which I find myself. There is something, perhaps, that we have forgotten or failed to see.
They
